


Dead at Heart

by melissa13



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood Drinking, F/M, Possible Character Death, True Blood References, Vampire Sex, crossover fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-12
Updated: 2017-02-24
Packaged: 2018-02-08 12:22:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 36,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1940940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melissa13/pseuds/melissa13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When women start being murdered in her small hometown of Bon Temps, Sheriff Emma Swan seeks help from an unlikely ally, Killian Jones, a 300-year-old vampire who owns a pirate themed bar in Shreveport. What tie does Killian have to the case? And what happens when Emma becomes the killer's next target?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Dead Man's Chest

It hadn't taken much convincing to get Graham to take her to the vampire bar in Shreveport: a hopeful smile, a little batting of the eyelashes, and his reluctance had melted away. Emma had only known him for a couple months, but the soft spoken, handsome vampire had gained her trust quickly after helping her out with a nasty bit of business at Granny's Diner one night.  

She picked him up just after dark, and he folded himself gracefully into the passenger seat of her little beetle. He looked comically cramped but voiced no complaints. 

"Sorry," she said anyway, putting the car back into drive. "I couldn't risk my patrol car raising suspicion." 

"No apology necessary, Sheriff," he told her, and she could feel his eyes sweep over her as she pulled back out onto the street. "Although, I doubt anyone will be paying attention to what you're driving."

She chanced a glance over at him, not missing the way his fangs protruded out of his mouth slightly, before forcing her eyes back on the road. Well, she had wanted to spice things up with her wardrobe tonight and had chosen her tightest, shortest red dress. If his reaction was anything to go by, she had chosen well. 

Any other time Emma knew she would have taken pleasure in his obvious arousal, but tonight wasn't about having fun. No, tonight, Emma Swan was a woman on a mission. Someone was killing women in her town, and as the sheriff it was her job to figure out who. So far, both of the women had had fang marks on their bodies, and while not being the cause of death, it was a pattern and one Emma knew she had to follow. 

The ride from Bon Temp to Shreveport was mostly silent, though not entirely uncomfortable. Finally, Graham gestured for her to get off the freeway exit, and it was only a few more minutes until they pulled into the bar's crowded parking lot. 

"'The Dead Man's Chest', seriously?" Emma asked dryly, reading the sign on top of the building. "What is it, some kind of pirate bar?"

"Yes," he answered simply, and while he didn't smile his eyes shone with amusement. 

"Oh." 

Graham was outside of the car and over to the driver's side, opening her door for her before she'd even cut the engine. He offered her his hand and she took it, marveling at the cool temperature of his skin. It was a bit eerie if she thought about it too hard, but vampires had been out of the coffin for 2 years, and it was high time she got over it. 

"It's probably best if you stick close to me," Graham suggested, threading her arm through his. 

"I can take care of myself, Graham," Emma said automatically, but made no move to pull away as they neared the front door. 

"I know, but as your escort tonight, it's my responsibility to make sure nothing happens to you," he said, and she near rolled her eyes. Once upon a time, Graham had been Irish nobility and even being made vampire hadn't caused him to curtail his gentlemanly ways. 

"Whatever lets you sleep at night," Emma muttered, before adding as an after thought, "Or morning, I guess."

The bouncer at the door nodded a greeting to Graham and checked Emma's ID before waving them through. Inside was like a whole different world. It was campy, kind of like what she'd expect a Pirates of the Caribbean themed bar at Disney world would look like, except for the glaringly obvious fact that half the patrons were sporting fangs. There were skull and crossbone flags hung all over the walls, along with netting and rope as from a ship. The staff, both human and vampire alike, were clad in various pirate get ups complete with bandanas and hats, long necklaces and gaudy rings. Here and there, tourists were interspersed with the patrons, snapping pictures and buying t-shirts and pint glasses with the club's logo on them. 

"This is so bizarre," she said to Graham as he led them over to the bar. "Is this really where you guys come to get your rocks off?"

He shrugged. "For some it's a good place to meet people, perhaps pick up a willing meal, pardon the term," he added, seeing Emma's arched eyebrow. "For others, it's a very lucrative business investment."

Emma considered that while Graham ordered a Tru Blood (B negative) from the bartender who seemed to know him. Once he'd grabbed that for Graham, he turned to her. "And something for your date?"

 _Not his date_ , Emma struggled to suppress. "A rum and coke, please," she said instead, pulling two pictures out of her purse and sliding them across the bar.  "And any information you can give me on either of these women."

* * *

 

The bartender, Smee, was almost no help besides being able to identify one of the women, Ariel, as a sometimes dancer. He got rather fidgety when she asked him who she usually hung out with, and Emma let it be, figuring she might be able to work on him later. 

She steered Graham towards a table in the middle of the room, hoping the location would give her a good vantage point with which to study the crowd. There were less tourists inside now, and the bar seemed to grow darker, sexier, the music driving most of the patrons to the dance floor. 

"Would you like to dance?" Graham asked, noticing where her attention was. 

"I'm not here to dance, I'm here to--"

That was when she saw him, and the words died in her mouth. He was staring straight at her, his blue eyes seeming to pierce her soul. The small raised platform in front of the dance floor was made to look like the helm of a ship, and he sat on what appeared to be a throne right next to the wheel. Clad from head to toe in black leather, he looked every inch the pirate. On him it didn't look campy, it looked natural, like a second skin. Once he realized that he'd caught her attention he gave her a slow smirk, his fangs dropping down, and Emma resisted the urge to shiver. 

"Who's that?" she asked Graham, taking a sip of her drink, trying to calm her suddenly racing heart. 

"Ah, noticed Killian, have you?" he said, almost disappointedly. "He's the owner of the bar, and the oldest amongst us."

Emma knew Graham was about 200 years old, give or take, and she had a feeling she knew exactly about how old Killian was. "Let me guess," she said. "He was a legit pirate back in the day."

Graham raised his eyebrows. "The rumors say that he was Blackbeard's biggest rival," he told her. 

Emma was still watching him watch her when a petite blonde dressed in a short green tunic appeared at his side and whispered in his ear. He chuckled to himself, licking his lips, before his eyes zeroed in on Graham. There was no mistaking the way he crooked his finger, beckoning him, _them_ , over. 

Graham tensed up next to her. "He's summoning us."

It appeared that Emma was about to get a lesson in vampire hierarchy. "Can he do that?" 

"Unfortunately," Graham drawled, and even thought she knew he couldn't breath, he seemed to sigh as he stood up from the table. "Shall we?"

Emma took his proffered hand, grabbing her rum and coke, and together they crossed over to the raised platform Killian sat on. 

Almost pointedly, the pirate vampire ignored her in favor of grinning at Graham. "Humbert!" he said, his accent different from her companion's. "Been a while there, mate."

"Well, the last time I was here, Jones, you stole away my dinner for the evening," Graham responded dryly. 

Killian Jones' smile widened. "It's not stealing if she came willingly," he pointed out, before switching his gaze to Emma. "Wouldn't you say so, Miss-?"

She didn't answer right away, cocking her head to the side as she studied him. Up close he was impossibly gorgeous: dark, thick hair, just the right amount of stubble on his cheeks, and eyeliner that made his eyes seem brighter despite the dark interior of the club. He practically screamed sex, and if she wasn't careful, she would forget the reason she'd come here tonight. 

"Swan. Emma Swan."

"A beautiful name for a beautiful woman," he said, raking his gaze over her in a way that made her feel warm all over. "Now, Tink tells me you've been asking questions of my bartenders. If you have anything to ask, please, ask it of me."

She blinked in surprise, but quickly regained her footing. "Right, well, I'm looking for information about these two women," she told him, producing both Ariel and Aurora's pictures from her purse and passing them to him. 

He studied them for a moment. "You're in luck, love," he said. "I happen to know them both. Ariel has danced here quite a few times. Her mermaid routine is a particular crowd pleaser. And Aurora, well, I would have liked to taste her, but her boyfriend Phillip never was one to share." He glanced up at Emma, licking his lips as if imagining what she tasted like. "Has something happened to them?"

"They're dead," she said bluntly. 

His expression clouded. "A pity, they were amongst the few humans I can stand," he said. His eyes flashed dangerously as he handed her back the photos. "I suppose you believe a vampire killed them."

"Actually, no," she corrected. "There was no evidence in either case to suggest their killer was a vampire. The were both bludgeoned to death. However, both women had recent fang marks on their bodies when they were killed."

Killian stroked his chin pensively, looking out over the dance floor. "That would seem to suggest a vendetta against women who consort with vampires."

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, it was like a light went on in Emma's head. Of course! Why hadn't she thought of that before? She loved Bon Temps but she knew it was full of bigots who were afraid of anything different than them. Quite a few people hadn't been too pleased when Graham moved to town, him being their first resident vampire. 

"I don't think I have to tell you to take extra care with Miss Swan here, Humbert," the pirate said to Graham. 

Emma made a noise of dissent in the back of her throat. "I can protect myself just fine, thanks."

"Emma," Graham warned, but it was too late. 

Killian glanced between them with piqued interest. "You mean, you two aren't-?"

Graham's fangs popped down suddenly, immediately followed by Killian's. "Emma is mine," he growled. 

 _Why me?_ Emma asked silently. "Um, no, Emma is nobody's but her own," she interjected, shooting Graham a glare that made him sheepishly retract his fangs. Sure, she and her handsome vampire friend had kissed, once, but that didn't mean he had a claim over her. "Now, if you two are done with this little pissing contest, I'd like to enjoy the rest of my rum and coke."

"Of course, where are my manners?" Killian made a quick gesture with his hand, and suddenly another chair appeared next to him. "Your company would give me great _pleasure_ , love," he said, punctuating the word pleasure with smirk. "Perhaps I can still be of further assistance."

Emma exchanged a look with Graham. It was clear that the invitation did not extend to him, and his expression urged caution. Whoever this Killian Jones was, he was not someone to trifle with. If there was any chance of finding the killer in her town, though, Emma knew she had to take it. 

With a nod to Graham, she stepped onto the platform and took a seat. "I didn't know pirates had manners," she said wryly. When she glanced back to where Graham had been standing, he was gone. 

"Ah, a pirate I may be," Killian conceded, lifting her free hand to his mouth and pressing a kiss to the back of her palm. "But I am first and foremost a gentleman."

Emma's lips parted of their own accord, and she was suddenly unable to tear her eyes away from his. His touch was cool and yet the spot where his lips had caressed her skin seemed to burn. Luckily for her, he ruined the moment by rotating her wrist and sliding his nose along her pulse point. 

"Mmm, you smell absolutely delectable, darling," he hummed, his fangs slowly emerging again. 

She tore her hand out of his grasp at the sight of them. "Too bad you'll never get a taste."

Killian wasn't deterred or even slightly shamed. "Never say never, love," he quipped. "In my vast experience, it puts such a hamper on all kinds of _possibilities_." 

Not knowing how to respond to that, Emma instead chose to take a sip of her drink and change the subject. "So, we've got Mr. Smee and Tink," she said, nodding to his two employees in turn. "Does that make you Captain Hook?"

He chuckled. "Guilty," he said. "Though I have the benefit of retaining both of my hands." He wiggled them in front of him making Emma bite her lip to hide a smile. "Tink's true name is Carina Tinkerella, though she actually does go by Tink. And believe it or not, my bartender's name _is_ actually Smee. Funny how that works out."

"You've got your own little Neverland here," Emma commented, though she didn't remember any of the characters in Peter Pan sporting fangs. But none of the vampires here would ever grow old, they would stay static, never changing, until they met their true death. 

"Aye, that it is," he replied, looking out across his bar solemnly, and somehow Emma knew that he was thinking the same thing as her. "And what about you, love?" he asked, gaze falling on her again. "Would you consider yourself a Lost Girl?"

There was no point in lying, she was sure he could hear her heartbeat, so she said nothing. 

Killian leaned closer, eyes searching hers. "No matter, you're somewhat of an open book," he told her, and it was like the entire bar had faded  away, like they were the only two people there. 

"Oh yeah?" she challenged him, cursing the somewhat breathy quality of her voice. 

"You're independent, somewhat of a loner despite being in a position of authority, a sheriff or at least deputy, I would wager," he recited, and Emma's eyes widened at the accuracy. His expression softened slightly as he went on. "Love has been all too rare in your life, hasn't it?"

This was getting too personal, and Emma did not do personal. She drained the rest of her drink and stood up. "Well, this has been a blast, but I think it's time for me to go."

Killian stood as well, staying her with a pair of serious blue eyes. "Before you do, just answer me this," he said. "Have you ever even _been_ in love?"

The silver necklace she wore around her throat suddenly felt like it was choking her. "No, I've never been in love."

"That is a great shame," was all Killian said, his fingers coming up to lightly caress her cheek. She let him, staying so still that she forgot to breath, and let out a deep breath when he dropped his hand. "In regards to your case, Miss Swan, please call on my assistance anytime. I am at your disposal."

He gave her a gallant bow, before disappearing in the direction of where the offices must have been. Graham was before her the second he was gone, helping her down from the stage. 

"Emma?" he asked worriedly. "Are you alright?"

She shook herself out of her Killian-induced trance. "I'm fine," she told her, trying to muster up a smile. "Come on, let's get out of here. I want to make sure Granny isn't letting Henry wait up for me."

They made it out of the bar unmolested and packed back into Emma's tiny car. She only looked back at The Dead Man's Chest once, and somehow wasn't surprised at all to find Killian watching them go. 


	2. Dearly Departed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Bon Temps serial killer strikes again, and that's when it becomes personal.

Granny was the next victim of the Bon Temps serial killer, and that was when it became personal.

For as long as Emma could remember it was always her, Ruby, and Granny Lucas. When Emma was two years old, or so the story goes, her parents were killed while on vacation in New Orleans. A mugging gone wrong, she was told when she got older. So, Emma spent some time in the foster care system, finally landing with the Swans, a nice couple from Baton Rouge. But when Mrs. Swan became pregnant with a child of her own, the Swans could no longer afford to keep Emma, and sent her back into the system. That's when Adele Lucas decided to take in another child to give her granddaughter Ruby, a companion. Ruby and Emma grew up as close as can be, like sisters to one another, and Granny, like the mother neither of them had ever had.

"I-I just don't understand," Ruby sobbed into Emma's shoulder. "Who would do something like this? G-Granny never hurt anyone."

Emma did her best to comfort her friend while struggling to keep her own composure. "I don't know," she said, her voice wobbling slightly. She couldn't get the image of Granny's beaten body out of her head. The stark contrast of her blood against the white tiles of the diner's floor would be seared into her memory forever. "I just don't know," she repeated dumbly.

Feeling absolutely helpless, Emma passed Ruby off to one of her deputies to take her statement. With shaking fingers, she dialed Graham's number and asked him to come to the crime scene. He must have been very close because within seconds, he had breezed into the diner.

His eyes darted around the scene, taking it all in, and his fangs dropped down at the scent of all the blood. She could tell the moment he realized whose body lay prone on the floor when his eyes flashed over to her. He was next to her immediately, arms winding around her and pulling her against his chest.

"I'm so sorry, Emma," Graham said as she stood rigid in his embrace, blinking back tears. She couldn't grieve now, not when she had a job to do.

Emma pulled back, giving him a tight lipped smile. "I need you to see if you can pick out the killer's scent," she told him, pleading with her eyes for him not to say anything else. If he asked her if she was okay, she knew she would fall apart.

He nodded. "Of course," he said. He walked around the crime scene, his nose twitching slightly the only tell that he was inhaling through it. To both of their dismay's, he was unsuccessful.

"There's too many scents in here for me to distinguish just one," he told her grimly. "I'm sorry I can't be of more help."

"It was a long shot," Emma sighed, waving his apologies away.

They remained silent for a moment, watching the Renard Parish forensics team take photos of the crime scene. Graham shifted uneasily and Emma, accustomed to his stillness, shot him a questioning look.

He wouldn't look at her. "This is my fault."

Emma raised her eyebrows at him. She had not been expecting that. "How _exactly_ is this your fault?"

"I've been staying in one of the rooms at Granny's inn for a few nights while they renovate my place to make it light tight," Graham explained, his accent thickening with his agitation. "If Granny hadn't've said yes, the killer never would have targeted her."

She was shaking her head before he even finished. "This is not your fault, Graham," Emma said firmly. "The only one who's responsible is the sick son of a bitch who's behind these killings. And I'm going to find him and make him pay."

* * *

_Easier said than done_ , Emma thought a few nights later, as she slammed down the phone on another dead end. It had been a rough couple of days as she fought to keep her emotions in check. Henry had been understandably devastated, and she didn't know how to comfort him when she was barely keeping it together herself. The best thing she could think to do was set him up with a couple of appointments with Archie Hopper, the school guidance counselor and hope that he could offer her son some kind of closure.

Emma rubbed at her eyes in defeat. The coroner's report had come back the same as it had with the other two women. Granny, tough as nails and with a tongue as sharp as a whip, had been bludgeoned to death with the same peculiar shaped object that the medical examiner could not place. Gold flecks had been extracted from some Granny's wounds, but the material wasn't a match for anything in their system.

She had reached a dead end. There were no new leads, no fingerprints, and no one with any motive beyond the typical prejudices held by more than just a few people in Bon Temps. The killer had covered his tracks impeccably, and it made her burn inside with anger at the thought of him out there still, possibly seeking his next victim. Emma hated to admit it, but she needed help.

A quick Google search was all it took to get the number she needed, and she dialed it quickly in her cellphone before she could talk herself out of it.

"Dead Man's Chest, it's a pirate's afterlife for us, how may I help you?" asked a female voice on the other side of the line.

Well, cheesy slogan aside, at least she had the right place. She could hear the background noise of the club over the woman's voice. "Um, hi," Emma said tentatively. "I need to speak to Killian Jones, please."

"The Captain is busy, try again later," the woman responded immediately, a slight edge to her tone now.

Emma frowned. "Can you tell him that it's Emma Swan?" she asked, hoping she hadn't made a mistake in thinking he'd remember her from a visit that had been a couple weeks ago.

"I don't think that will make much of a diff-"

There was a pause as she was cut off, and suddenly there was a whooshing sound and the slamming of a door before the noise of the club were silenced, as if the person holding the phone had gone into another room.

"Miss Swan," came a smooth, accented voice, and Emma couldn't suppress the shiver that went down her spine. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your call?"

Emma sighed. Why couldn't vampires just say hello like normal people? "There's been another murder," she told him, cutting right to the chase. "This one hit pretty close to home. I've gotta find this guy, and, well..." She faltered for a second. "You did say you would help me if I needed it."

The other end of the line was silent. "I must confess, I am surprised you would take up my offer, love," Killian said finally, and she could hear the smirk on his face. "Why not go to Humbert?"

It was a question that Emma had asked herself, and she had yet to come up with an answer. "I don't know," she answered truthfully. "I just have a feeling you'll be able to help me more than he would."

Emma had learned over the years to always go with her gut, and her gut was telling her that somehow he would help her solve this case.

He was silent again, and Emma wished she was speaking to him in person just to be able to have a shot at gauging his answer by his facial expressions. "I like to think that I am a man of my word," Killian told her in a brisk tone. "Therefore, I will endeavor to help you in any way I can. Be at the club tomorrow night at 9 PM. Bring your case files."

A click signaled that he had hung up, and on her end Emma let out the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding and put her phone down. Apparently, vampires had trouble with goodbyes as well.

She threaded her fingers through her hair, and prayed that she wouldn't regret this. A quick glance at the clock in her office told her she had about 10 minutes to get home in time to tuck Henry in, so she packed up her things, locked up the station, and headed out. This time tomorrow night, she would be on her way to Dead Man's Chest.

* * *

The next night, she tucked Henry in tight, and kissed him on the top of his forehead. "Sweet dreams, kid," she said.

"You're going back to that vampire bar tonight, aren't you?" he asked before she'd pulled away. Emma gave him a look and he shrugged. "I may have overheard you talking to Aunt Ruby about it."

"Henry, what have I told you about eavesdropping?" Emma asked resignedly.

"Sorry," he said, only the slightest hint of sheepishness on his face.

Emma sighed. "I am going back to that bar," she told him. "But I don't want you to worry about me. I'll be fine."

"I know," Henry said, closing his eyes and settling into his pillow. "And I know you'll catch whoever killed Granny. Stopping bad guys is what you do."

Emma wished she had as much faith in herself as her son did.

When she came out to the living room, she started when she saw Graham standing next to Ruby until she remembered that she'd asked him to pop over.

"Maybe _you_ can talk her out of this," Ruby said to Graham, a sour pout on her lips.

"Out of what?" he asked, looking from her to Ruby in confusion.

Ruby shook her head and held her hands up in a universal, 'don't look at me' expression. "Be back before 2 AM or I'm sending in the state troopers," she directed at Emma, before stalking off into the kitchen, her long, raven hair swinging after her.

"She's just being dramatic," Emma said, shrugging into her leather jacket. Emma knew her best friend probably wouldn't have accepted the babysitting job if she hadn't been desperate to get out of the inn, where everything reminded her of Granny. She headed out the front door and Graham followed her. "I'm going back to Dead Man's Chest tonight."

"You're _what_?" Graham practically shouted behind her. He was usually so soft spoken that it surprised her momentarily.

"Killian said he would help me with this case," she reasoned. "I'm running out of options at this point, and it's only a matter of time before the killer chooses his next victim."

"Emma, you can't go to Killian," Graham implored. "If he helps you, he'll want some sort of favor in return. You can't trust him."

"I'm only telling you as a courtesy," Emma said bluntly. "I'm not asking for your permission _or_ your protection." He opened his mouth to protest, but she rounded on him, cutting him off. "I'm not yours, Graham. _You_ may think I am, this whole _town_ might think so too, but have you ever even asked me out on a date?"

He floundered, his mouth opening and closing for a moment, before he sighed and shook his head ruefully. "No, I suppose I haven't," he said. He stepped closer to her, though, eyes holding hers seriously. "But Emma, you don't know Killian like I do. He was a dangerous man and he's become even more so as a vampire."

"I think I need dangerous if I'm going to stop the guy," Emma blurted out, eyes darting away from him. Vampire though he was, Graham was decidedly not dangerous, what with his waistcoats, perfectly gelled hair, and penchant for dart playing.

"At least allow me to come with you," he said after a moment. "Please."

Emma considered it. There was stubborn, and then there was stupid, and she would be bordering on the latter if she chose not to bring him with her.

"Fine," she said, rolling her eyes at his smug look. She pointed a finger at him. "But I don't need you and Killian getting into it, so whatever you have against him, check it at the door, got it?"

Graham nodded. "Consider it checked," he said, and sped over to the passenger seat as if she was going to drive off without him.

A minute later they were on their way to Shreveport for the second time in two weeks.

* * *

The bar's parking lot had a bunch of cars in it, but there was no bouncer or line at the front door. Instead, a notice had been tacked up that said, 'Closed for Staff Meeting.' Emma raised her eyebrows at Graham who shrugged in return, opening the door and ushering her through.

Without the loud music, flashing lights, and pirate costumes, Dead Man's Chest looked kind of like a grungy seafood restaurant. Situated at the tables, were several people, human and vampire alike, and Emma recognized a couple of them from when she'd been there last.

Suddenly, a tiny blonde woman appeared in front of her. "Perfect, you're here. We can start soon," she said, smiling brightly. The effect was somewhat ruined by her protruding fangs. "We weren't properly introduced last time, but I'm Tink."

Emma blinked at her. "Um, Emma," she returned, eyeing the other people over her shoulder. "Are we interrupting something? Killian told me to be here at 9."

"Nope, not interrupting!" Tink told her. "Come on, Killian wants to see you in his office beforehand."

 _Before what?_ Emma wanted to ask, but followed along after Tink anyway. Beside her, Graham's jaw was set tensely, but he remained silent. She suspected courtesy kept him from saying, 'I told you so.'

Tink led them past the bathrooms to where Killian's office was situated, entering a code on the door, and gesturing them in ahead of her. Killian was seated at his desk, but rose to his feet when she walked in. Today he was without the pirate get up, but still in black, with black jeans and a black t-shirt on that hugged his figure enticingly. Her mouth practically ran dry at the sight of him.

"Ah, Swan, glad you could make it," Killian said, his blue eyes smoldering at her. He didn't look surprised to see Graham, and gave him a short nod. "Humbert."

"I brought the files," Emma said, before either of them could say anything else. He crossed to in front of his desk, and she handed him the stack.

Which he promptly took one contemplative look at before tossing them on his desk.

Emma narrowed her eyes at him and crossed her arms. "You didn't bring me here to look at the files, did you?"

Killian's patronizing smile did little to calm her down. "Yes and no," he said, leaning back against his desk. Emma felt Graham shift restlessly behind her. "I'm going to help you solve your case, but not before you help me solve one of my own."

Emma almost wished she'd brought along little wooden bullets for her gun. She would have loved to put a couple holes in him. "Is this some sort of game to you?"

"No, I assure you, this is nothing like a game," he replied, deadly serious now. He nodded to Tink and she handed her a piece of paper. "One of my employees is stealing money from me, and I want to find out who."

Emma peered down at the paper. If the numbers here were correct, Killian was out about $25,000; a nice chunk of change. "And you want me to do what, exactly?" she asked, looking back up at him. "Interrogate these people until one of them confesses?"

He leaned closer to her, that insufferable smirk on his face again. "I want you to use your _superpower_."

It was a shame she had never quite perfected her pokerface. "My what?" she repeated, resisting the urge to look at Graham accusingly. She had told him about that in confidence.

"Your 'superpower'," Killian said again. He gestured to Graham with a nod of his head. "Graham tells me you have the ability to detect lies. A handy little talent to have as law enforcement, I'm sure." He smiled, probably noticing the dirty look Emma threw at Graham. "Don't be mad at Humbert. After our first meeting, I made him tell me everything about you, and as his superior, he couldn't refuse."

"You're kind of a bastard, you know that?" Emma couldn't help but blurt out.

Killian laughed openly, but didn't deny it. "You're not the first person to tell me that, love, and I'm certain you won't be the last." He sobered up quickly, though, holding her gaze with his. "Help me, and I will help you find the killer in your town, Emma," he told her. "I promise."

What she should have done was walk right out of there and found a different solution; talked to more people, chased down more leads. But Emma was never one to dwell on shoulda, coulda, wouldas.

"Okay, I'll help you."

* * *

**TBC**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all your kudos, comments, and bookmarks! I'm very excited about this fic and where it's going to go from here. If you liked this chapter, please let me know! Your reviews will only encourage me to write the next chapter faster :)


	3. The True Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma interviews Killian's employees to help find out who's stolen his money.

Emma’s “superpower” wasn’t something that endeared her to many people, especially the small-minded kind of people she’d grown up with. Kids didn’t tend to like the freak who could always tell when you were lying at Go Fish, which made her childhood a rather lonely one, minus Ruby’s friendship, of course. As Emma stood in front of the bar next to Killian as he addressed his staff, she knew her superpower wouldn’t make her very popular here, either. 

"Someone here amongst you is a thief," Killian said, looking at each of his employees in turn. "And tonight we will determine exactly which one of you it is."

He began to pace in front of them, hands behind his back, and it wasn't hard to picture him doing the same aboard the deck of a pirate ship.

"Now, I believe myself to be quite a laid back, even benevolent, employer," Killian went on. "Do you not get paid vacations? Do you not get sick leave and holiday bonuses? What cause someone would have to steal from me, I know not, but know this," he said, stopping and narrowing his eyes at them. "When I have found the culprit, I shall not be so lenient. They will be punished in any way I see fit. If, however, that person should happen to come forward at this moment, I might be persuaded to show them mercy."

There was silence in the room as the staff eyed each other uneasily. “No one?” Killian asked. He smiled thinly. “Wonderful, then we will proceed.”

He turned and gestured to Emma. “This is Sheriff Swan,” he told them. “She will be questioning each of you. If she finds you to be free of suspicion, then you may go. Smee, you’re up first.”

Killian led them over to a more secluded part of the room, and she sat down across the table from the heavyset bartender who swallowed heavily.

"I swear I had nothing to do with the money being stolen, sir," he said to Killian, and despite his nervousness, Emma knew he was telling the truth.  

Killian peered at him from where he was leaning against the wall nearby with Tink and their business partner Felix, another vampire. “Just answer her questions, Smee,” he said, and nodded to Emma to begin.

She took a readying breath, eyes darting to Graham who also stood nearby, arms crossed over his chest. He gave her an encouraging nod, and she turned back to Smee. 

"Alright, name and position?"

* * *

 

Emma started off by asking everyone general questions to get a feel for how they responded to things. She asked them about their job and about what kind of boss Killian was and whether they enjoyed working there. Although it would have been hard to say anything against the man when he was staring them down, the general feeling Emma got was that Killian was actually a well-liked boss, almost to the point of being hero-worshipped. The women were in love with him and the men (were also some of them in love with him) wanted to be him.

It grew clear as they went on that not one of the people she’d interviewed so far had any idea about the missing money. Their accountant was practically on the edge of a nervous breakdown as he explained that one day the money had been there and then the next, it was gone. But he was telling the truth when he said he had no idea who had gotten their hands on the money or how.

Finally, Tink brought over the last employee, a voluptuous brunette dressed in a barely there crop top and skirt. She looked disgruntled as she sat down across from Emma, but was quick to throw a flirtatious look Killian’s way.

"Candy, the Sheriff here has some questions for you," Killian told her. "Be a good girl and answer them, will you?"

"Aye, aye, Captain," the girl said, batting her eyelashes at him, and Emma wanted to gag. She recognized the woman’s voice from yesterday on the phone.  

"Candy’s not your real name, is it?" Emma had to ask.

Candy looked at Emma like she’d found her stuck to the bottom of her 4-inch stilettos. “Of course, it is,” she snarled. 

 **Lie.**  

" _Mmhm_ , right," Emma said. "Well, now, _Candy_ , what is your position here?”

"Any position Captain Jones wants," Candy simpered, giving Emma a smirk. 

Emma couldn’t resist throwing Killian the dirtiest, ‘you’ve got to be kidding me’ look. He arched an eyebrow at her, grinning for the first time all night, and the effect was striking to say the least. She immediately directed her attention back to Candy. 

"Right, well, do you think you could expand on the extent of your other duties for me?"

Candy sighed like what Emma was asking was the biggest imposition, but went on to explain that she was both a waitress and the bar’s day person. While the vampires were dead for the day, she handled deliveries, maintenance issues, and made bank deposits. The latter caught Emma's attention immediately.

"Then, you have access to the bar’s safe and account numbers, I take it?" she asked.

This made Candy hesitate. “Yes,” she responded.

"Candy, did you take Killian’s money?" Emma asked bluntly, studying her every facial expression.

"Of course not!" she exclaimed, looking imploringly at Killian. "Captain, you know I would never!"

Again, not a lie, but not the truth either. “She didn’t take the money,” Emma stated firmly, and Killian’s eyes flew over to meet hers. “But I think she knows who did.”

"What?" Candy cried, chest heaving with manic. "That’s crazy! This bitch has no idea what she’s talking about!"

"Candy, do you know who stole my money?" Killian asked, edging closer to her, his eyes glittering darkly.

"No!" the girl insisted.

 **LIE _._**  

God, this would be a lot simpler if she could just read her mind, Emma thought. And then, a funny thing happened. As Emma tried to concentrate on figuring out how to draw the truth out of her, the girl’s voice sounded in her head. 

_I’m gonna die. Lord, please, help me, I never should have agreed to help him._

"Help who, Candy?" Emma blurted out. 

Candy stared at her. “I didn’t say anything.”

The vampires were looking at her strangely, too, but Emma couldn’t dwell on that, she was too busy listening to Candy’s thoughts bounce around in her head. 

_Keep it together. He’s gonna kill you if they find out!_

"Who’s gonna kill you, Candy?" Emma asked urgently. "What’s his name?"

"Uhh," Candy hummed, and suddenly her face and mind went completely blank. 

Emma huffed in frustration. “I can’t get a read on her,” she said. “It’s like her mind’s been wiped.”

"She’s been glamoured," Tink said instantly. 

Emma’s eyes widened. “It was a vampire.”

And Candy didn’t dare look in his direction, but she couldn’t keep her mind from bringing up his face, and Emma gasped aloud. Before she could say anything, Felix was bearing down on her, knocking her right to the ground, his fangs bared and his hands around her neck. He was choking her and all she could think about was Henry and what would happen to him after she was dead.

Suddenly, a ripple went through Felix and the pressure around her neck was gone. She could do nothing more than watch in horror as he spewed out blood from his mouth and disintegrated right on top of her, coating her in his remains from head to toe. And kneeling in front of her, fangs bared, stake in hand, and eyes hard with anger, was Killian. 

Emma’s lips parted, and she drew in a shuddering breath. Some of Felix’s blood was in her mouth, and she leaned over and attempted to spit it out. Killian regarded her warily, both of them tuning out Candy’s sudden frantic screaming.

Slowly, Emma took stock of herself. There was sludge everywhere, in her hair, in her eyes, all over her clothes. “This was my favorite jacket,” she croaked. It hurt to speak, and she couldn’t stop the tears from welling up in her eyes at the pain.

The sight of which seemed to compel Killian into action. “Tink, find some appropriate clothes for Miss Swan to change into. Humbert, glamour this little incident out of Candy’s mind for me.” He wrapped one arm around her back and one arm under her knees and hoisted her carefully up off the floor. 

"Maybe I should—" Graham started, but didn’t finish, and Emma distantly saw the commanding glare Killian threw his way. 

The former pirate carried her down the hallway to his office, but bypassed that door in favor of another that said ‘Employees Only.’ Inside was a sort of locker room, and Killian brought her directly to the showers. He set her down gently, steadying her when she swayed a bit. 

"Are you alright, Swan?" he asked, studying her. 

Emma wanted to laugh. She’d just been almost chocked to death by a vampire before having said vampire be staked whilst on top of her, covering her completely in his remains. A hysterical giggle escaped her. “I’m just dandy,” she said hoarsely, wincing at the pain in her throat. 

Killian’s hands came up to tilt her head so he could study her throat. Rage burned behind those too blue eyes of his. “I would stake him twice over for marring your lovely skin,” he growled. He considered her bruises before drawing his wrist up to his mouth and biting it with his fangs.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

He offered his bleeding wrist to her. “Drink,” he commanded. “My blood with heal your wounds.”

Emma knew all about V, she was a sheriff after all, and she looked from him to his wrist skeptically. 

He sighed. “Vampire blood straight from the vein is different from V, love,” he told her, guessing her thoughts correctly. “Your throat will take many days to heal, but my blood will heal you almost instantly. Now, if you don’t drink, the wound’s going to close up.”

He situated himself behind her, bringing his arm around in front of her and offering it up to her mouth. Slowly, and feeling distantly as thought she would come to regret this, she drew his wrist up to her mouth, closed her lips around his wound and sucked. 

The sound of his fangs snapping down, coupled with his low groan sent white heat straight to her core. He pushed closer to her, wrapping his free arm around her waist and pulling her back to grind his erection into her ass. His blood was thick with a metallic taste to it, but the more she drank, the more she wanted. His other hand made its way up from her waist to caress her breast, eliciting a moan from her, but it was the feeling of his fangs pricking her throat that brought to back to her senses. She struggled in his arms momentarily before he released her, and she spun around, putting a good couple of feet between them. 

His pupils were fully blown, his fangs were bared, and he was looking at her as though he were an alcoholic and she was a bottle of his favorite liquor. 

"My apologies," he murmured after a moment, his eyes clearing. "You are, quite simply, intoxicating, Swan."

Emma had no idea how to respond to that, especially seeing as how she was covered in blood and sludge; figured that that would be attractive to a vampire.

Luckily, he continued on, “Tink will bring you clothes and a towel. I will take my leave, unless…” He paused, heat simmering in his eyes again and a fangy smirk on his lips, “You require assistance?”

The shock was finally wearing off, and she felt much more like herself as she sent a dubious look his way. 

His smirk widened to a full on grin and he nodded. “Another time, then,” he conceded, before disappearing out the door. 

When he was gone, Emma began the grisly task of peeling off her soiled clothing, tossing all of it into a nearby trashcan before hopping into the shower. She stood under the stream of hot water until the water flowing into the drain was no longer tinged red. Bits and pieces of vampire clogged the drain, and she tried not to gag. Never in a million years would she have ever imagined herself in this situation. It was just ridiculous. And what made it even more so was that now she somehow owed Killian Jones for saving her life.

Shaking that thought out of her head, she turned off the water and pulled back the curtain. Tink was standing there with a towel in her outstretched hand, and Emma clutched her chest in shock.

"Jesus Christ, could you not do that?" she asked, forcefully aware of the fact that she was stark naked.

Tink was unfazed. “Sorry!” she chirped, and with her fangs down like they were now, she reminded Emma a bit of what a vampire Barbie might look like. She took the proffered towel and wrapped herself securely in it. Tink set some clothes on the end of a nearby bench. “You need any help?”

Emma snorted. She and Killian obvious spent a lot of time together; they were so similar it was almost scary. “I think I can handle it from here,” she told her.

The blonde pixie shrugged. “Suit yourself!” she said, and was gone in a flash.

Shaking her head, Emma regarded the clothing Tink had brought her. It was all merchandise from the bar’s gift shop: a Dead Man’s Chest t-shirt, a pair of shorts with a fanged skull and crossbones on them, and a pair of panties that had ‘Ahoy!’ printed across the ass. Charming. 

Once she’d dressed and used the comb Tink had left with the clothes, she finally felt like a human being again. She slipped on the flip flops Tink had provided and made her way back to the bar. The area where Felix had been staked was now spotless, and the air smelled strongly of bleach. Killian and Tink looked to be in a serious conversation by the stage, and Graham sat apart from them nursing a Tru Blood. When he spotted her, he was instantly on his feet zipping in front of her. 

He gripped her shoulders. “Emma, are you al—” He stopped abruptly, inhaling deeply through his nose. His eyes widened in horror. “You’ve taken Killian’s blood,” he whispered, before whipping his head around to glare at the vampire in question. “You gave her your blood?” he asked him accusingly. 

"He did it to heal me," Emma came to his defense, and it had worked because the pain was completely gone. She felt better than ever, actually. "Or did you miss how Felix tried to crush my windpipe?" She wasn’t bitter or anything, but where exactly had Graham been when she had been getting the life choked out of her?

"Emma, you don’t understand," Graham told her as Killian watched on coolly. "Our blood doesn’t just heal. He’ll be able to know things about you now. He’ll be able to feel your emotions, be able to find you wherever you are. You’re _connected_ now.”

She could feel the panic in her rising as she looked from Graham to Killian, who didn’t deny anything. “You son of a bitch,” she bit out, clenching her hands into fists. Seriously, why did she always forget to bring her gun with the wooden bullets when she came here?

Killian held up his hands in a placating gesture. “No need for name calling, love,” he said. “’S bad form. I had no ulterior motive in giving you my blood other than seeing to your wounds. The other effects are just ancillary benefits.”

He shrugged, increasing her anger tenfold. She couldn’t believe she’d come here for his help, couldn’t believe she’d let herself trust him. When would she learn?

"Graham, let’s go."

She made a beeline for the exit, but Killian blocked her path. “Wait, Swan, I—,” he stumbled over his words as she glared up at him. “I apologize. I shouldn’t have taken advantage of you like that.”

"Damn right, you shouldn’t have," she snapped, crossing her arms over her chest. Face to face with him, she couldn’t forget the way he’d held to her tight against him or the heat that had risen between them. 

"It was never my intention for you to get harmed tonight," he continued on, and Emma wished she had the strength to look away from his eyes. "And I’m sorry for that as well. I am very grateful for your assistance, however. I am in your debt. Once I am done with my affairs here, I will devote my full attention to your case, that I promise you." 

Emma swallowed the lump in her throat at his words. “Yeah, whatever,” she said dismissively, and brushed passed him on the way to the door without so much as a goodbye. 

The fresh air of the parking lot made her feel almost numb, and Graham was at her side as they crossed the now empty parking lot. “Why don’t I drive?” he suggested lightly, and Emma handed over the keys, suddenly too tired to argue. 

She slumped into the passenger seat, and let out a deep breath when they finally pulled out of the parking lot. Grabbing her phone from her bag, she texted Ruby that she’d be home son, hoping her friend wouldn’t pester her with questions about why she’d left wearing one outfit and returned wearing another one.

"Emma?" Graham asked hesitantly, shattering the silence in the car. "What happened back there when you were questioning Candy?"

His words brought back the unfamiliar sensation of hearing Candy’s voice in her head. After shit had hit the fan, the incident had completely slipped her mind. 

"Honestly, I have no idea," she said. "One minute, I was reading her lies and then the next I was—"

"Reading her mind," Graham finished, an indecipherable edge to his voice. 

"Yeah." Emma shook her head. "Nothing like that’s ever happened to me before."

He didn’t respond and Emma glanced over to him. His lips were pursed as if he wanted to say something, and when his eyes darted over to her, she urged him on with a raise of her eyebrows. 

"You must tell no one of this," Graham said tersely. "It’s dangerous enough that Killian knows. If anyone else were to discover your powers, it could spell trouble for you and your boy."

Emma said nothing in response, and the rest of the ride back to Bon Temps was spent in silence. Her mind was reeling internally, though. Powers? The vampires coming out of the coffin had opened her mind up to a lot of things, but a belief in magic was not one of them. She wasn’t freakin’ Harry Potter for Christ’s sake. No, whatever had happened tonight was a fluke. 

Ruby was luckily too firmly embroiled in her own troubles to barrage Emma with questions about her night, and accepted Graham’s offer to walk with her back to the inn. Emma checked on Henry, who slept soundly in his bed, blissfully aware of her bizarre night, before slipping up to her room. There she took two Benadryls, and crawled under the covers; the last thing she needed was to have any nightmares of what had happened back at the club. She was out within minutes.

* * *

 

The next morning, when she went outside to get the paper, there was a package on her front step. On top of the package was a stack of newspapers from another small town in Louisiana, all dated 1989, and all had to do with a serial killer who was bludgeoning young women to death. A note written in elegant penmanship sat on top. 

> _Swan,_
> 
> _Dawn is rapidly approaching, so I must be brief. Your case might be even more dangerous than originally thought. When I saw the photos of the crime scenes and victims, they immediately reminded me of another serial killer with the same methods in the late 80's. One of his victims was a companion of mine, a woman named Milah. I hope these newspapers will be of some use to you as it would give me great pleasure to see the bastard who killed her brought to justice at your hand._
> 
> _As for the second package, I know it cannot begin to make up for what happened last night, but it is the least I can do. It was never my intention to betray your trust, and I shall endeavor my hardest to win it back. I would ask that you be careful, but I know you would just insist that you can take care of yourself._
> 
> _Yours,_
> 
> _KJ_

Slightly stunned, Emma's eyes darted around her front lawn as if Killian was hiding out behind a tree (which was ludicrous in and of itself since it was light out), before picking up the package and bringing it inside. She set the newspapers aside to be inspected later, and started tearing at the tape at the top of the box, more than a little curious about it's contents. When she parted the flaps, a gasp escaped her lips involuntarily. 

Nestled inside amongst the tissue paper, was a brand new, red leather jacket; an exact replica of her favorite one that had gotten ruined the night before. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was really fun to write! I'm really enjoying this story so far as a whole and I hope you guys are too. Please review and let me know what you think! :)


	4. Dead End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a really long time, so without further ado...

Emma spent the day engrossed in the newspapers Killian had left on her doorstep, combing over every paragraph covering the three murders that had occurred in Eunice, LA more than 15 years prior. Killian was right; certain details seemed to be almost identical to the murders that had happened in Bon Temps. All the victims bludgeoned to death, no sign of forced entry into their homes, no fingerprints or DNA left behind at the crime scene. There was no doubt in her mind that the two serial killers were one and the same.

The Eunice Sheriff’s Office had expedited over their case files on the murders as Emma had requested, but the files only raised more questions. There had been a few suspects in the case, but all had either alibied out or were already died long before the murders had started in Bon Temps.

About ready to tear her hair out, Emma turned her attention to one of the victims, Milah Gold, Killian’s companion, as he had said. She studied one of the photographs in her file, one of her with her arm around a young boy in front of a birthday cake. Milah was beautiful, with long, dark hair and high cheekbones with her lips curved into a radiant smile. She seemed almost familiar to Emma, in a way she couldn’t quite place.

She turned the picture over. _Bae’s 6th birthday, 1985_ , was written on the back in tidy scrawl. So, this picture had been taken four years before her death. The woman hadn’t known she wouldn’t live to see her son turn fifteen. A shiver ran up Emma’s spine at the thought and she put the picture to the side.

The crime scene photos of Milah Gold were some of the most gruesome Emma had ever seen. Milah’s beautiful face was mashed in to the point of being unrecognizable. There was blood everywhere, as though the murderer had wanted to expel every last drop of it. Maybe, despite vampires not being out of the coffin yet, the killer had somehow known about Milah’s involvement with Killian.

Emma shuffled around the papers until she came to the statement from Milah’s husband at the time, Rupert Gold, who said he’d been working late at the time of his wife’s murder. According to the files, the Eunice sheriffs had arrested Gold as a suspect but had never been able to charge him with anything due to lack of evidence. Emma thumbed through the photos again, searching for a photo of the man, but came up empty handed.

She tried to move on to the other victims, see if maybe there was something she was overlooking in their cases, but she couldn’t get the crime scene photos of Milah Gold out of her head. Someone had wanted her to suffer, had unleashed a brutal fury upon her that surpassed the cruelty shown to the other victims. Her gut told her that it had been personal with Milah, and she couldn’t shake the fact that no one had actually seen Rupert Gold working late that night.

A Google search of his name brought up the same article that Killian had given her and a picture of Milah, but there was virtually nothing on Rupert Gold. It was as if the man hadn’t even existed.

“Hi, this is Sheriff Swan from the Bon Temps Sheriff’s Office,” Emma said into her desk phone minutes later. “I need all the information you have on Rupert Gold, and a picture if you have one.”

“I’m sorry, Sheriff,” the voice on the other line said. “The only one with access to that information is Sheriff Jameson, and he’s off today.”

Emma huffed impatiently. “But, your office gave me the case files associated with his wife's murder earlier no problem,” she argued, before changing course. “Whatever, nevermind that, is there anyway you could call him and tell him it’s an emergency?”

The lady sounded skeptical. “The sheriff likes to go fishing on his days off, and is mostly unreachable, but I can try,” she told Emma. “Do you have a phone number he can reach you at?”

“Yes, he can reach me at my cell phone,” Emma replied immediately, giving her the digits. “And again, please tell him it’s urgent.”

They disconnected and Emma rested her head in her hands. She supposed she had Killian to thank for this. Maybe if she wasn’t still so pissed at him for being a high-handed bastard, she would feel a little more grateful. He had been right about the effects of his blood; her bruises were completely gone and rather than feeling like she’d been hit by a bus, she felt strong and healthy, better than she had in a long while. Even her hair seemed shinier and blonder than usual.

“Mom?”

“Henry?” Frowning slightly, Emma lowered her hand, fixing her son with a confused look. She’d been so lost in thought, she hadn’t even heard his footsteps. “What’re you doing here?”

Henry sighed, “You didn’t forget about the wake, did you? Aunt Ruby’s expecting us over in an hour.”

Emma swore mentally. She’d been so absorbed in her work, she had in fact completely forgotten that Ruby had planned a small wake at the diner the night before Granny’s funeral. She glanced from the files to the clock. It seemed like days rather than hours ago since she’d found Killian’s package on her doorstep, and it felt like finally she was getting somewhere. Could she really drop everything now right when she might be on the verge of a breakthrough.

One look at Henry’s face was all it took for her to begin packing up her things. The case would have to wait. It was time to say goodbye to Granny.

* * *

“Thank you all for coming tonight,” Ruby said quietly, glancing around the length of the diner where it seemed more than half of the town had crammed inside. At her side, Emma gave her hand a comforting squeeze, and Ruby shot her a watery smile. “It would have touched Granny’s heart to see everyone gathered here in her honor.” A sudden laugh bubbled unsteadily out of Ruby. “Maybe touched isn’t the right word, she would’ve gotten a kick out of everyone making such a fuss over her.”

There were a few titters at that around the diner, and even Emma smiled, through tears ran down her cheeks. On the other side of her, Henry’s arms around her waist tightened, and she smoothed his hair down soothingly.

“She may not have always shown it,” Ruby went on. “But Granny loved this town and she loved all of you. She was always here when you needed something, whether it was a sympathetic ear or a plate of her famous Lasagna.” She took a shaky breath. “Tomorrow we--tomorrow we say goodbye to Granny, but the diner and the inn will remain open to anyone in Bon Temps who needs it. It’s what Granny would have wanted after all.”

Ruby’s chin trembled, and Emma could see she was on the verge of losing it. Swallowing, she came to her best friend’s aid. “A toast,” she piped up, grabbing a glass of punch from the counter behind her. Ruby shot her a grateful look, and did the same. Everyone in the diner held up their glasses. At the back of the room, she spied Graham, watching her intently, a TruBlood in his raised hand. “To Granny,” she said simply. It felt woefully understated, but there was no simple and concise way of conveying exactly how much Emma had loved the woman, or how grateful she was that she’d taken her in all those years ago.

“Granny,” everyone in the diner echoed. 

It was hard hearing everyone’s condolences, from the group of older woman Granny went hunting with to the different patrons who had eaten at the diner daily, but Emma loyally stayed by Ruby’s side the whole night until only a few people were left. Henry had long since fallen asleep in one of the booths, it was probably high time she got him home, especially if they needed to be up early in the morning.

“Oh, Ruby, Emma,” a concerned voice turned her attention away from her slumbering son. Belle French, the town librarian and one of Emma and Ruby’s closest friends was pulling Ruby into a comforting hug. “We would have come over sooner, but we didn’t want to monopolize you,” she said before turning to Emma.

Over her shoulder, she could see Belle’s husband, Mr. French. “We’re very sorry for your loss, dearies,” Mr. French said, the gold tooth in his mouth gleaming in the light of the diner. “Your grandmother was an...extraordinary woman."

There was something about Belle’s husband that had given her the willies ever since she’d met her, but Emma could never put her finger on it. There was nothing overtly sinister about the man, but he’d never been particularly warm to her in all the years she’d known him either. Mr. French owned a popular antique store in town and also acted as landlord for several real estate properties around Bon Temps including Emma’s own house. He was older than Belle by probably 20 years Emma estimated, but her dark haired friend looked up at him like he was a fairytale prince, and that was usually enough to allay any concerns she had about him and his lack of social skills.

“How are you both doing?” Belle asked, clasping both of their hands in hers.

“Better,” Ruby assured her, though her eyes were sad, devoid of their usual sparkle. “It’s just, I keep expecting her to walk through the door complaining about the price of flour or guilt tripping me into wearing that red cloak she knit me, and then I remember she’s not there and, I just wish I’d told her how much she meant to me...”

She trailed off, shaking her head, and Emma wrapped an arm around her waist, resting her chin on Ruby’s shoulder. “She knew, Ruby,” Emma told her, and Belle rubbed Ruby’s arm soothingly.

“Have you made any progress catching the killer?” Mr. French asked her after a moment.

“I have a few leads,” Emma told him, feeling wary about divulging any information, especially to him, but determined not to show it. “It’s only a matter of time before I nab the bastard.”

French smiled indulgently. “I’m sure it is.” He slipped his hand into Belle’s. “Come along, dearie. The ladies have a long day ahead of them tomorrow. You might want to think about getting your boy home, Miss Swan,” he said, gesturing to Henry’s slumbering form with the cane he used. “It’s probably past his bedtime.”

If there was one thing Emma hated more than anything it was people telling her what to do with her own child, but for Belle’s sake, all she did was give him a tight smile before saying goodbye to the couple. Ruby turned away to start cleaning up, and Emma debated with herself internally, wanting to help her friend, but also knowing that she did need to get Henry home.

“Go,” a soft lilting voice said close to her ear. She whipped her head around to face Graham. He was looking past her to Ruby. “I’ll help her clean up.”

She nodded, shrugging into her jacket as she studied his profile. “You sure kept your distance tonight,” she said, wishing the instant that the words were out that she could take them back. Hypocrite, she mentally chided herself.

Graham’s dark eyes were solemn. “I won’t let our relationship, whatever it may be, make you a target,” he told her. His gaze met hers, suddenly. “Staying away from you is harder than it looks, however.”

Emma knew she shouldn’t, but she couldn’t resist the comfort that she knew Graham could give her. Was it so wrong to want to be held when it felt like your whole world had turned upside down? “Then, don’t,” she said simply.

He studied her for a long moment. It was bit unnerving when he did that since he didn't have to blink. “I won’t be able to attend the funeral tomorrow, for obvious reasons,” he finally said. “Perhaps, after I’m done here, I could call upon you?”

“I may or may not have a couple of TruBlood’s in the fridge with your name on them,” she told him with a small smile. “See you later.”

Emma walked over to the booth where Henry was sleeping and shook him awake. He blinked blearily up at her as he came to, peering around his surroundings with  gradual clarity.

“Time to go home?” he yawned, sitting up.

“Home or…,” she considered his little face for a moment. “I was thinking we could grab some ice cream, but if you’re too tired…”

Henry’s face lit up brighter than she’d seen it in days. “Ice cream? Really, Mom? Please, please, please?”

“Why not?” she shrugged. It had been a hard few days for her son, and a little ice cream went a long way sometimes. “Come on, kiddo, Any Given Sundae closes at 9 o’clock sharp.”

* * *

They were driving down the long lane to the house about half an hour later, and the moment she stepped out of the car, she felt a prickling sensation on the back of her neck. Something was wrong. Henry, on a sugar high and oblivious to her alarm, bounded up the front steps to the front door.

“Henry-”

“Mom, you left the front door open,” Henry scolded playfully, and immediately Emma had her gun out of her purse and ran up the steps after him, eyes darting every which way.

“Henry, get back,” she ordered, pushing him protectively behind her.

Emma nudge the door, the door she specifically remembered locking behind her, and it swung open without any resistance. Someone had been here. Her heart was beating fast in her chest, adrenaline rushing through her. They could still be here.

The porch step creaked behind them, and Emma swung around, her gun outstretched in her hands, safety off, only to meet Graham’s frozen on the top stop. His pale hands glowed in the darkness as he held them out placatingly.

“Emma, what--?”

“Someone’s broken into my house,” she whispered, trying to temper the panic in her voice, well aware of her son trembling behind her. “They could still be here.”

Graham’s fangs popped down and he angled his head around. “Wait here,” he said, before he was gone in the blink of an eye.

“Mom,” came Henry’s small voice, and Emma wanted more than anything to reach out and comfort him, but she had to stay alert.

“Everything’s gonna be alright, Henry,” she told him as confidently as possible.

After an agonizing minute, Graham was back. “I swept through the whole house and the yard,” he reported . “Whoever was here is gone now.”

All the tension drained out of her and she clicked the safety of her gun back on before kneeling and pulling Henry into her arms. “Everything’s fine, we’re okay,” she murmured in his ear. “We’re okay.”

* * *

Emma drank in the sight of her son sleeping peacefully in his bed one last time before closing the door as quietly as she could behind her. She crept back into the living room and found Graham engaged in what she called vampire downtime, where he just stared into space, silent and unmoving. It was more than a little eerie, so Emma faked a cough, which drew him out of it. He immediately stood, though he waited for her to come to him.

“Henry asleep?” he asked.

She nodded, wrapping her arms around herself. “I would have rathered he sleep with me in my room tonight, but he insisted he was alright to sleep on his own.”

“And are you alright, Emma?” Graham asked, his eyes full of concern.

“I’m fine,” she said automatically, but felt a sudden burst of agitation. “No, you know what? I’m not fine,” she amended, beginning to pace. “I’m pissed. This guy thinks he can come into my house, threaten my son, and mess with my head? He’s got another thing coming. You catch a whiff of anyone?”

“Not anyone familiar to me,” he said regretfully. “You’re sure you don’t want to call your deputies in?”

“And have them do what?” Emma asked skeptically. “Dust for prints? I already know there aren’t any. This guy’s not some amateur, he knows how to cover his tracks. He did this to try and throw me off so I’ll drop the case. Well, I hope he’s happy ‘cause he’s just made me that more determined. When that creep comes back, he’s going to get an up close and personal look at my gun.”

Graham stopped her pacing, gripping her shoulders lightly. She blinked, looking up into his pale, but handsome, face. “Emma, Henry’s not the only one who needs his rest,” he reasoned. “You should get some sleep, too. I will stand watch until dawn. You and Henry will be safe.”

Emma shook her head. “I couldn’t ask you to do that, Graham.”

He smiled, moving closer to her ever so slightly. “You didn’t ask, I offered.”

They were standing too close all of a sudden. His eyes searched hers, and it occurred to her distantly that he wanted to kiss her. His lips seemed only a hair's breadth away from hers, all she had to do was stretch a little higher, _it would be easy_ , but no, _she couldn’t_ , she shouldn’t, _God, she wanted to_ , but that would complicate everything. He would want her to be his, and she was never anybody’s for very long before they tossed her to the side like she was nothing.

Emma closed her eyes and took in a deep breath before pulling back. She opened her eyes and caught a glimpse of Graham’s disappointed expression before he fixed his features into an impenetrable mask.

“Thank you, Graham,” she whispered. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Emma.”

She slipped into her room and closed the door behind her, fingers itching to lock the door. Emma didn’t know whether it was to keep him out or herself in.

She stripped out of her clothes and pulled on her favorite nightgown. The day had been warm, but the night was cool, and Emma pulled her comforter all the way up when she got into bed. She lay there for a long time, too aware of Graham in her living room, before she finally fell asleep.

* * *

_Cold lips were brushing kisses across her bare shoulders as equally cold fingers idly caressed her left breast. Emma smiled, eyes still closed._

_“Mmm, Graham,” she moaned. “That feels so good.”_

_Both lips and fingers halted in their ministrations, and she suddenly found herself on her back and pinned to her mattress by a large and solid body. She opened her eyes to see Killian grinning down at her, his hair sticking up every which way, eyes glinting with dark promise._

_“You think you’re so clever, don’t you, love?” he asked, sliding her arms up so that he could lock both of her wrists above her head with one hand._

_Her grin grew wider still, even knowing that she was trapped, completely at his mercy. “Yeah, I do,” she said playfully._

_Killian chuckled, inching his free hand lower and lower down her body, closing in on where she was aching for him. “I’ll show you clever, Swan,” he said, before mercilessly digging his fingers under her ribs where she was the most ticklish._ __

_“Killian, Killian, no!” she hissed, shrieking with laughter, bucking her hips to get away from him, but she was no match for his vampire strength._ __

_“Shh, Swan,” he chided with glee. “You’ll wake up your lad.”_ __

_She writhed underneath, unable to help her breathless laughter. When finally he relented, he gazed down as her, blue eyes full of amusement as she mock-glared up at him. Laughing, he released her, rolling off onto his side, and she softened and followed, settling her head next to his on the pillow._

_“You know, everyone thinks you’re this heartless bastard, but you’re really just a big softie,” Emma said, fingers coming up to trace the stubble on his cheeks that hadn’t grown in 300 years._ __

_“Only with you, darling.” He took her hand in his, drawing it to his lips, placing kisses on her fingers, on the back of her palm, on her wrist._ __

_“Why me, though?”_ __

_“Why?” Killian echoed, entwining their fingers together.  “Because you’re the most brilliant, amazing, strong, and_ beautiful _woman I’ve ever known.” He punctuated each word with a kiss, and his lips were cool against her own._

_She should have felt moved by his words, but there was a niggling in the back of her brain that wouldn’t go away. “You don’t even really know me, though,” she whispered, even as his lips traced their way across her face and along her jaw._

_“But I will.” His tone was confident and full of weight as pulled back to meet her gaze with his own, holding it for a long moment. “Emma, this is the beginning,” he declared, before his lips descended on hers, passionate and demanding._

_It didn’t feel remotely wrong at all to respond, to draw him over her again so that his body rested on top of hers, to run her fingers along his scalp. Everything in the world seemed to disappear until there was nothing but the points where his skin met hers. His lips left her mouth and trailed down her throat, and she felt a pricking of her skin when his fangs dropped down. Was he going to bite her? She moaned aloud at the thought and-_ __

Emma gasped, eyes popping open to stare at the ceiling of her bedroom. She looked wildly around her room, but she was alone. Alone and completely aroused. Her breasts ached to be touched, her nipples tight and poking through her nightgown. Emma threw the covers off and went to the window, opening it to let the night air cool her flushed body.

She closed her eyes and leaned her elbows against the window sill, willing her heart to stop racing. The dream had felt so real. If she touched her lips, would they be swollen from his kisses?

There was a sudden gust of wind from outside and Emma opened her eyes only for her heart to stop in her chest. Killian was standing five feet away from her window, fangs extended, looking as darkly gorgeous as she’d seen him what felt like only minutes before. She practically whimpered at the sight of him.

“Please tell me this isn’t another dream,” Emma pleaded. She didn't think she could handle it.

Killian raised an eyebrow, his lips slowly forming into a smirk. “Another?” he repeated, coming closer. “You’ve been dreaming about me, Swan? Is that what’s got you so…” His eyes took in her still flushed face, her hardened nipples beneath her nightgown. “Worked up?”

Emma said nothing as all the blood drained from her face. She definitely wasn’t dreaming. He really was here. Graham said he would be able to feel her emotions now since she’d drank his blood. He could probably feel how aroused she was, and she’d just admitted it was because of him. Good Lord, was she in trouble. 

Killian was wearing a full blown grin now, displaying his prominent fangs. “Well, love,” he said, “Aren’t you going to invite me in?”


	5. Dead Ringer

“What the hell are you doing here?” Emma hissed, frozen in place at the window. Her eyes darted around the yard wildly, anything to keep from looking at him. “Where’s Graham?”

“Alas, Humbert was urgently called away,” Killian said, his lips forming a sympathetic pout. “He asked me to watch over you in his stead. Most reluctantly,” he added, as an afterthought, “If it makes you feel any better.”

“Called away?” Emma repeated, her arousal fading away, and being quickly replaced with unease. “By who?”

Killian shrugged, his expression shifting into something more serious. “That, I do not know, Humbert did not see it fit to enlighten me in that regard,” he answered, the frown on his face and the furrow to his brow telling Emma that he wasn’t altogether pleased by that fact. Evidently, he wasn’t about to lose any sleep over it because not even a moment passed before his ever present smirk resurfaced. “So, what do you say, Swan? Shall I carry out my guard duty outside or may I come in?”

Emma swallowed, searching his eyes for any sign of an ulterior motive. It was there all right, but she didn’t think the vampire bar owner intended to harm her. Quite the opposite, really, since he seemed rather intent on seducing her if the smoldering look he was giving her was any indication.

He sensed her hesitation, though. “I promise, I have no intention of harming you...or your son,” he said, and Emma felt her heart stutter at his mention of Henry. Had Graham told him all about Henry as well? She opened her mouth to ask just that, when he stayed her words with a hand. “No, Humbert didn’t tell me about your lad,” he assured her. “I can hear him breathing in his room, and his scent is all around your yard.”

Emma swallowed again, the lump in her throat seemingly immovable. “You know, my superpower doesn’t work on vampires,” she finally said.

“A fact that you should be eternally grateful for,” he interrupted, his tone rather ominous, which Emma decided to ignore.

She crossed her arms over her chest. “How do I know you’re not lying to me?”

Vampires couldn’t sigh, but Emma had the distinct feeling that if Killian could, he would have. “Try something new, darling,” he said, his blue eyes sincere through the window screen. “It’s called trust.”

Emma could count on one hand the number of people she trusted whole heartedly in this world, and that number had been diminished by one in the last week. It might have made life a little lonely, but it saved her the heartache later. “Yeah, well, trust has to be earned,” she told him pointedly.

Another smile bloomed on his face, and her traitorous heart skipped a beat she hoped he didn’t hear. “Well,” he said, and leaned in closer as if about to share a secret. “I love a good challenge.”

Emma sighed, knowing somehow that Killian Jones wasn’t a man, or vampire, that was used to hearing the word no. If it was only a matter of her own safety, she would have preferred to take her own chances, but she had Henry to think about, and if he was offering his protection, she would have to be a fool to turn him away. The least she could do was invite him inside, though she wasn’t sure what unsettled her more, him being inside her home or the fact that maybe she wasn’t completely opposed to it.

Shaking off that thought and ignoring his indignant, “Oy!”, she turned her back on him and left her room, throwing her robe on and tying the sash as tight as possible. She cast a glance over at Henry’s room before creeping quietly to the front door. Killian appeared all of a sudden as she unlocked and opened the door, giving her a mini heart attack.

Emma pointed a finger in his smug face. “You do or say anything I don’t like, I’ll rescind your invitation faster than you can say ‘ _yo ho ho_ ’, is that clear?”

“Crystal,” he said, smile still firmly in place.

She sighed deeply again before opening her screen door. “Come in, I guess,” she said, gesturing resignedly inside.

Emma expected to feel nothing but dread as his booted feet cleared the threshold, but a much different feeling surfaced as he came to stand before her. The last time they’d been this close was when he’d give her his blood only a little more than 24 hours ago, and she shivered as she recalled the iron clad grip he’d held her body in as he’d pulled it flush against his. Killian’s lip curled as if he knew what she was thinking (maybe he did, how did any of this even work, what the hell?), and his eyes traveled over the length of her robe clad form, seeming to take note of every dip and curve.

“There was no need to cover up on my account, Swan,” he murmured, eyes smoldering as they came up to meet hers again.

Emma let out a noise of sarcastic amusement, mostly to distract herself from getting lost in his penetrating gaze, but didn’t answer, instead turning back to head into the living room, knowing he would follow.

“Can I get you something to drink?” she asked, cursing her inability to forgo southern hospitality that Granny had drilled into both her and Ruby from a young age. Killian had agreed to take over guard duty from Graham when he needn’t have though, so perhaps he deserved a bit of her gratitude. Speaking of Graham, where the hell had he gone? she thought again with increased agitation. “A Tru Blood?”

“Hmm, thank you, but I can’t stomach that processed rubbish,” Killian said, peering around her living room as if he’d never been in such a place before, and she wondered what her worn in sofas and hodge podge decor looked like through his hundreds year old eyes. He lickd his lips as his attention settled on her once more. “I prefer my _nourishment_ straight from the source.”

Emma smirked. “I like to think I’m a good hostess, but I’m not that good,” she joked, sitting down on her couch, tucking her legs underneath her.

Killian chuckled genuinely. “It was worth a try.”

Emma’s eyes followed him as he sauntered around her living room until he came upon the mantelpiece above her fireplace. She’d arranged several pictures of her and Henry there along with random little knick knacks. He reached out and picked up a frame, studying it intently. Emma knew exactly what picture it was too, the two of them at Christmas last year, dressed in holiday onesies with matching grins on their faces.

“This your boy, Swan?” he asked her.

Emma said nothing, simply blinking at Killian when he prompted her with a questioning look.

He shook his head, grinning as he placed the picture back down. “You’re a mistrustful lass.”

“You must be used to people not trusting you,” Emma remarked.

“Ah, yes, the vampire thing,” he said and shrugged good-naturedly. “Well, you’re certainly not wrong, though I had hoped you’d be a little more receptive after I steered you in the right direction for your case.”

Emma raised her eyebrows at him. “You really want me to believe you did that for my benefit?” she asked.

His smile slipped for half a second, just long enough for her to notice. “What?” 

Emma shrugged, standing suddenly, her feet taking her to the kitchen, knowing he was following her even if she couldn’t hear his footsteps. She busied herself with making some hot chocolate, all the while feeling his intent on her even as she placed the last bits of cinnamon on top. Finally, she turned to him, leaning back against the counter and meeting his expectant gaze.

“You loved her,” she said matter-a-factly, taking a sip of her favorite drink, willing it to relax her like it normally would.

He clenched his jaw almost imperceptibly and crossed his arms, and his eyes appeared even bluer in the kitchen lighting. “And how did you arrive at such a wild conclusion, Miss Swan?” he asked, more than a slight edge to his tone.

Emma hesitated. She was treading on dangerous ground here, but she had to know.

“The newspapers you gave me,” she said. “You didn’t print the articles off the Internet. The pages are yellowing a bit. Why would you keep them all these years if you didn’t care?”

“Maybe I procured them from the Library,” Killian suggested.

She shook her head. “You didn’t.”

He was silent for a moment before he said, in an almost accusatory tone, “For someone who’s never been in love, you’re quite _perceptive_ , aren’t you?”

Her fingers itched to grab onto her Swan necklace and she thought of warm brown eyes and a dimpled grin. “Maybe I was, once,” she whispered, knowing he could hear every word loud and clear.

Killian’s eyes didn’t leave hers, none of the playfulness of earlier in them. “Then perhaps you can understand that I’d like to find the bastard who killed her as much as you do.”

“I could find him faster with a bit more information if you're willing to help,” she said, gesturing to the kitchen table.

He hesitated briefly, and Emma thought he was preparing to shut her down, before he nodded. “Anything you need.”

He dutifully sat, and she took a seat across from him, wrapping her hands around her mug. “What can you tell me about Milah? Did she have any enemies, anyone who would’ve wanted to hurt her?”

Killian shook his head. “No one I knew of,” he told her. “She didn’t have many friends within her community, leading a fairly lonely life. But she had such spirit,” he said reverently. “It’s what drew me to her in the first place. When I revealed later that I was vampire, rather than being afraid, she was intrigued, wanted to know all of my stories, from my pirating days and beyond.”

“Did her husband know about you?” Emma asked, trying to fit this Killian Jones in with the one she’d come to know.

He made a dismissive noise. “Her husband was a coward of a man, practically the town pariah, and entirely unworthy of her,” he said, lip curling in distaste. “He knew and yet he did nothing, didn’t even attempt to _fight_ for her when she left him.”

“Wait, she left?” Emma asked, brow furrowing. “That wasn’t in the notes.”

“I imagine it wouldn’t be,” Killian said dryly. “Appearances for appearance’s sake, you know.”

“But she did end up going back,” she prompted.

“To say goodbye to her son for good,” Killian told her. “She begged me to make her vampire so that we could be together forever, and I warned her that doing so would force her to cut all ties to her former life. Remember, we weren’t out of the coffin then yet.”

“She was willing to leave her son and never see him again?” Emma asked, hoping it didn’t come off as too judgemental. She felt an ache in her heart at just the thought of leaving Henry. He was her whole world.

“It wasn’t a decision she made lightly,” Killian replied, an edge to his voice that made her cheeks flush with shame. “Not a day went by that Milah didn’t miss Bae, but she realized that however much of a coward her husband was, he was a good father, and she knew he’d take care of their son in her absence.”

Emma figured she didn’t have any right to judge a long dead woman and pressed on. “Alright, so, she returned home to say goodbye to her son,” she summarized. “When did you realize something was wrong?”

Killian fixated his attention on her kitchen table. “That evening,” he told her. “I was out of the country making preparations for her transformation when I was suddenly assailed by her pain and fear. We had exchanged enough blood during our time together, our bond was strong.” He looked up at her then, his hands clenched into fists on top of the table. “I could feel everything she was enduring, but I was powerless to stop it. The moment she died... _I felt it_ , thousands of miles away, like my own heart was being ripped out.”

Emma couldn’t tear her eyes away from him as he spoke. His pain felt almost tangible, as if she herself could feel it. Maybe she could? If he could feel her emotions, did it work in the reverse?

“I’m sorry, Killian,” she said softly, the words feeling woefully inept.

“Don’t be sorry, Swan,” he replied squarely. “Just find the bastard.”

“I will,” she promised firmly. “Anyone who comes after me and my family better be prepared for me to rain hell down on them.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Killian said without a trace of sarcasm. He leaned over the table, lacing his fingers together and studying her over them. “I don’t suppose you’d let me have the pleasure of killing him once you find him, would you, love?”

“No,” Emma said immediately, causing him to scowl. “I’ve seen how things are done in the vampire world, Killian: stake first, ask questions later, but in Bon Temps, I’m Sheriff. I have to do things by the book.”

“And if you weren’t Sheriff?”

Emma met his stare across the table, swallowing deeply. Her chair screeched against the floor as she abruptly stood, bringing her empty mug to the sink. His question hung in the air as she rinsed her mug out and placed it in the sink.

The crime scenes at Aurora’s and Ariel’s apartments flashed through her mind as well as the picture of Milah’s broken body. They had all haunted her these last couple days as she got further and further along with no leads. But nothing was worse than the image of Granny’s bloody body on the floor of the diner, the place that had been home to Emma for almost her whole life. Finally, she turned to face Killian and wasn’t surprised to see him standing in front of her.

“If I wasn’t Sheriff?” she repeated. Granny’s lifeless eyes looked up at her, the woman who’d nurtured and protected her for 24 years. “If I wasn’t Sheriff, they’d never find the body.”

A slow, fanged smile crept over Killian’s face and he stepped closer to her. “You’d make a hell of a vampire, love,” he said, and suddenly he was close enough that she had to tilt her head to meet his eyes, which were a deep cerulean now.

The arousal she’d felt earlier returned in full force at the touch of his fingers across her shoulders and down her arm. She leaned her head to the side and suppressed a moan as his free hand knotted itself in her hair.

“It’s not fair,” Emma protested weakly, her eyes falling closed. “It’s just your blood making me feel this way.”

“It doesn’t work like that,” he murmured, and she inhaled sharply as his lips descended on her exposed neck, suckling ever so gently on her pulse point. The light prick of his fangs sent shivers down her spine. “The blood only enhances what you already feel, it does not have the ability to manifest something that’s not there.”

Her brain felt fuzzy with lust, but his words triggered something almost like a defense mechanism inside her. Her eyes opened wide even as she arched her back to allow him greater access to trail his lips down her collarbone and lower still to part nudge apart the top of her robe. Lord, she wanted him, wanted more than anything for him to just lay her back against the kitchen table or the counter tops and have his way with her. And that thought was exactly why she froze, her body becoming rigid with panic.

“What is it, love?” Killian asked softly, halting his path and straightening up to look her in the eye.

Emma swallowed. “I—I—,” she stuttered, feeling her heart beat faster with indecision. All she knew was that making out with a vampire in her kitchen while her son was asleep down the hall was the last thing she should be doing.

Killian searched her face, his expression falling. “Swan, don’t—”

“Killian Jones, I rescind your invitation.”

She wasn’t exactly sure what to expect when she spoke the words, but Killian being tugged out of the room by unseen forces and flung out her front door was not it. Emma cursed, following the path he’d taken, and watched somewhat guiltily through the screen door as he picked himself up off her lawn.

“Bloody hell, Swan,” he growled, brushing dirt off his clothes, though he looked more hurt than annoyed. “If you had wanted me to stop, you could have just said so. I came here to protect you, why do this to me now?”

“I’m sorry,” Emma whispered, ever mindful of Henry, who hopefully was still asleep despite the racket. “I just, I can’t take the chance that I’m wrong about you.”

Killian shook his head in disbelief. “So, you’re just going to leave me out here then?” he asked, gesturing with his arms spread out. “Like some poor mutt that you’ve turned out into the yard for bad behavior?”

“I don’t expect you to stay,” she told him, barely able to look him in the eye. Of course he wouldn’t stay now, not after she’d kicked him out.

“Well, I hate to disappoint you, but I do plan on staying,” Killian countered, walking back up the porch stairs. “I happen to be a vampire of my word, so I will stand watch until dawn, as promised, at which point I will go to ground nearby, in hopes that when you and your son awake unharmed, I will have perhaps earned at least a little bit of your trust.”

Well, now she felt about two feet tall. “Thank you,” she said quietly.

“ _Sweet dreams_ , Swan,” he said, his expression inscrutable as he turned his back on her, making himself comfortable on her front steps.

Emma closed her eyes briefly before opening them and shutting the door, turning the lock as well. She couldn’t say she regretted what she’d done, not when she was protecting her son. Who knew what ulterior motives Killian had for being there tonight? Graham (who she was also furious with, what the hell?) had told her he was dangerous, and she didn’t need her superpower to work on vampires to know he hadn’t been lying. It was for the best. She had a job to do, afterall. Every ounce of her focus had to be on finding Granny’s killer and bringing him to justice. There was zero time for distractions.

Yes, Emma thought as she crawled back into her bed, it was _definitely_ for the best.

She couldn’t explain, however, the feeling of safety that engulfed her as she slipped into blissful unconsciousness, thankfully dream-free.

* * *

 

The morning of Granny’s funeral dawned cool and grey. Emma felt as though she’d hardly laid her head down on her pillow before her alarm was going off. She pulled herself up though, woke Henry, and the two of them were dressed and on their way to the cemetery within the hour.

It warmed Emma’s heart to see so many people turn up for Granny. She saw her own deputy, Leroy, with a bunch of his fishing friends, Belle and Mr. French, Archie Hopper from Henry’s school, and many more. It spoke to what a presence she’d been to the people of Bon Temps. Emma nodded greetings to several people, one hand on Henry’s shoulder as she steered them to the front of the assembly where Ruby was waiting. When he saw her, Henry broke away from Emma’s grasp to wrap his arms around Ruby’s waist.

Ruby sniffled, hugging Henry to her, looking at Emma with the saddest eyes she’d ever seen. “I’m so glad you guys are here,” she whispered in Emma’s ear as she joined their embrace. “I don’t think I could have done this alone.”

“You’ll never be alone,” Emma promised her fiercely, her voice tight with emotions. She pulled back to look at her best friend, her sister, in the eye. “The three of us are a family, and nothing will ever change that.”

Ruby nodded, drawing Emma in again. They broke apart when Henry protested he was being squished, and went to take their seats in the front row before the coffin.

As everyone settled in, there was a sudden ringing in Emma’s purse. She grimaced and dug around for it to turn it off, when she caught sight of the caller ID: Eunice Sheriff’s Office. Talk about worst timing ever. She thought about excusing herself to take the call, but the pastor officiating the burial suddenly appeared before them.

“Are we ready to begin, Miss Lucas?” he asked solemnly, a bible tucked against his chest.

“I think so,” Ruby said, her voice wavering a bit. She glanced Emma’s way, noticing the phone in her hand. “Emma?”

She hastily put her phone on silent and threw it back in her bag. “Yes, we’re ready,” she told the pastor, sending Ruby a reassuring look. She would call the Eunice Sheriff’s Office back after the funeral. Hopefully, they would have some answers for her.

Emma managed to stay dry-eyed for the whole service up until the pastor asked if anyone would like to say a few words and _Henry_ , her precious, _amazing_ boy, was the first person to get up.

“Did you know **—**?” Ruby started to ask as Henry walked over to where the pastor stood.

“No,” Emma told her, because she’d had no idea, and good lord, she had been doing so well.

“Shit, there’s not enough waterproof mascara in the world for this,” Ruby moaned, and Emma grabbed her hand in hers and watched intently as Henry took out a piece of lined notebook paper and started to read from it.

“Granny,” he said, his little 10-year-old voice wobbling slight, and Emma almost lost it right then and there. “I still can’t believe you’re gone. Mom and I miss you so much, but everyone tells me you’re in a better place and I hope they’re right. I just wanted to let you know that Mom and I are going to take care of Aunt Ruby because that’s what our family does, we take care of each other.”

There were tears rolling down Emma’s face, but she didn’t care, clutching Ruby’s hand like it was a lifeline.

“I’m going to miss your lasagna and your hot cocoa. You always made mine with just the right amount of whip cream and cinnamon. Mostly though,” and that was where her strong boy finally faltered, “I think I’m gonna miss your hugs. Granny always gave the best hugs,” Henry said, addressing the crowd of mourners, most who were without a dry eye.

Henry rushed back to his seat, where he finally allowed himself to break in Emma’s waiting arms. She held him while he cried into her shoulder, and she rested her chin on top of his head and cried with him for the only mother she’d ever known. And he was right: Granny gave the best hugs.

There were more speakers, townspeople with kind words to say or funny anecdotes to share about the often times cantankerous Adele Lucas, and then suddenly the ceremony was over and they all stood and watched as Granny’s casket was lowered into the freshly dug earth. A hollow ache formed in Emma’s chest as it went down. She was an orphan again, it seemed, and she clung all the tighter onto Henry and Ruby.

Afterwards, embraces were exchanged, condolences given, and more tears shed until there were only a few mourners left. Ruby and Emma walked arm and arm away from the burial site, Emma’s free arm wrapped around Henry’s shoulders.

“Ruby, why don’t you come home with Henry and me?” Emma asked her.

Ruby smiled sadly. “Maybe later?” she said, making it seem more like a question. “I think I just need to be alone for a little while.”

Emma nodded, pulling her into another hug, joined once again by Henry, wrapping his arms around their waists. She and Henry piled into the the Bug and watched Ruby drive away before pulling out of the parking lot as well.

“That was a beautiful speech you made, Henry,” Emma said, reaching over and smoothing down the hair.

“Mr. Hopper told me it might help to write some stuff down,” Henry replied. “You know, to honor Granny’s memory.”

“She would have loved it,” Emma reassured him.

They drove in relative silence until suddenly there was a jolt and Emma felt her car slowing down, bumping along the road. She craned her neck to look in the sideview mirror and groaned. Sure enough, the back tire was deflated.

“What a day to get a flat,” Emma grumbled, unbuckling her seat belt. “Stay here, kid.”

She got out and surveyed the tire, finding a nail pressed into it. Opening the trunk provided no relief; she didn’t have a spare tire, recalling a couple months ago that she’d used it on her police cruiser.

Well, they weren’t that far away from home. Maybe they could just walk from there, and she could call for a tow later.

“Henry, I think we’re gonna have to make a run for it,” she called to him through the open window, eyeing the dark clouds in the distance.

“Mom, look!” Henry said, and she saw him pointing behind her.

A car had pulled up behind the bug, an old Cadillac, and Emma felt a wave of inexplicable dread wash over her as Mr. French stepped out, his cane steadying him as he walked over.

“Car trouble, Sheriff?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she said, giving him a tight smile. “Flat tire, unfortunately.”

“Well, the least I can do is drive you and your boy home,” French said, gesturing towards his car, matching Emma’s smile. “I know what a trying day it’s been.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Emma said, not really sure why she was resisting, only that her gut told her something was off. “We’re really fine with walking.”

“Nonsense, I insist,” he told her. “I just dropped Belle off at home. I’m headed to my shop, and your home is on the way.”

There was really nothing more to do than accept. “Okay, thank you,” she said, grabbing her purse and keys from the car. “Come on, kid. Mr. French is being nice enough to give us a ride.”

“Cool,” Henry said, unbuckling his seatbelt and bounding out of the car. “Thanks, Mr. French.”

“It’s my pleasure, Henry,” the pawnshop proprietor said.

The three of them got in the car, Emma riding shotgun with Henry behind her, and Mr. French pulled off the shoulder and onto the road. The radio was set to some golden oldies station, and French tapped out the beat against his steering wheel. Emma’s uneasiness didn’t fade one bit as they drove down the familiar streets of Bon Temps, but she comforted herself with the knowledge that her and Henry would be home in just a few minutes.

“It was a beautiful service,” Mr. French said, breaking the silence.

“Yes, it was,” Emma agreed.

The service reminded her of the phone call she received beforehand, and she dug in her purse for her phone. Taking it out, she saw she had a new voicemail and text message. She decided to listen to the voicemail first, sneaking a look at Mr. French who kept driving contently.

_“Sheriff Swan, this is Sheriff Jameson from the Eunice Sheriff’s Office. I understand you’re looking for information about Rupert Gold in regards to the murder of his wife. We kept him in police custody for a while after her murder, but with no solid motive or evidence against him, we were forced to let him go. Shortly after, he left Eunice with his son and was never heard from again. Suspicious, I know. I have only one picture of the man, a mugshot from when we brought him in. I’ll text it over to you right now. Let me know if I can be of any further assistance.”_

The line clicked off as the message ended. Emma hurriedly went into her messages, clicking the new one, and opened the attachment.

All the blood drained out of her face as she looked at the mugshot. White, middle-aged male, shoulder length brown hair; his mouth was open just enough so that she could see the fillings in his teeth. What caught her attention most were his eyes: cold, remorseless, the eyes of a killer.

Eyes that belonged to the man sitting next to her.

There was no mistaking it; Rupert Gold was none other than Belle’s husband, Mr. French.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it's been forever, I am horrid at updating multi chapters! Please stick with this though, I have such plans for it! Let me know what you think of this chapter :)


	6. Dead to Rights

Her heart was beating faster than it probably ever had in her life. Suddenly, she could hear nothing beyond the blood rushing through her ears until;  
  
"Everything alright, Miss Swan?"  
  
His voice jarred her out of her stupor, and she quickly clicked her phone off and plastered a smile on her face, turning to the man, the murderer, next to her. "Of course," she said. She jiggled her phone in her hand. "Work stuff, you know, crime doesn't take a day off."  
  
"No rest for the wicked, as they say," French, or Gold, or whoever the hell he was, chuckled.  
  
Emma hummed in agreement, giving him a tight lipped smile before casually looking back at Henry. Her son was oblivious to her inner turmoil, looking out the window at the familiar sights passing by. She turned back around, facing forward, trying to stay calm for his sake. Who knew Gold's actual motives for driving them home. He'd made it clear by breaking into their home last night that she was his next target.  
  
Suddenly, it dawned on her clear as day how he'd gotten into her house when she distinctly remembered locking the door. The guy was her freaking landlord, he had a spare key! In fact, all of the places he'd broken into, Aurora's, Ariel's, Granny's, he was the landlord for all of their buildings. There'd been no signs of any forced entry because he hadn't needed to force the entry, he had keys to half the properties in town!  
  
Emma swallowed, noting with increasing panic that they were only minutes away from the house. She needed a plan. Unfortunately, she'd foolishly left her gun and handcuffs at home, what had she been thinking? She hardly thought Gold would come quietly, and then there was Henry to consider, she had to get him out of the way and to safety. But how to do that without alerting Gold that she was on to him?

“Do you have a minute, Mr. French?” Emma asked as they pulled up her long driveway. She took her seatbelt off, looking over at him as earnestly as possible. “Granny left me a few things in her will, a couple of them I don’t really have any use for. I was thinking, maybe you’d like them for your shop?”

Gold smiled indulgently. “Of course, Miss Swan,” he said, putting the car in park. “I’d be happy to take them off your hands.”

Emma returned his smile best she could, and then the three of them exited the car, Henry bounding ahead of them, though he waited patiently for Emma to unlock the door. Her heart thudded in her chest as she pushed open the front door, inviting a suspected serial killer into her home. All she needed to do was get Henry away and grab her gun and handcuffs from the safe. Her eyes flitted around the foyer a plan rapidly forming in her mind.

Emma gestured to the kitchen. “Why don’t you make yourself comfortable while I grab the items. Henry, can you give me a hand?”

Henry followed after her, blissfully ignorant, and oh, how Emma longed to spare him from this. She led the way into her room and shut the door behind them with a soft click. Henry frowned and opened his mouth, but she cut him off before he could speak, kneeling down in front of him.

“Henry, I need you to do everything I say, quickly and without questions,” Emma told him tersely, and he caught on to her mood, his eyes wide but alert. “Mr. French is not who we think he is. I need to take him down, and I can’t have you here while I do it. You know how I’ve always told you not to take the shortcut through the woods to Nicholas and Ava’s?”

Henry bobbed his head. “Well, I want you to forget that and run as fast as you can there and stay with them and their dad until I come and get you.”

He began to shake his head. “But Mom--”

“No, ‘buts’, Henry,” she interrupted, scooting him over to the window. The room faced the back of the house and the kitchen windows faced the front so there was little chance Gold would see him. “I can’t do my job if I’m worried about you. You have to go.”

Her brave boy searched her eyes before nodding. He climbed up on the windowsill as she lifted the window and screen as quietly as possible. She grabbed his hands and lowered him down, glad for maybe the first time ever that they lived in a modest one story home.

“I love you, Henry,” she whispered. “Now, _run_.”

He took off like a shot, and Emma watched as he disappeared into the treeline. Quickly, she took out her gun and cuffs, and also, for good measure, off the black heels she’d worn for the funeral. She breathed deeply, mentally preparing herself for the coming confrontation. She’d arrested a lot of people in her career, first as a deputy and then as Sheriff, but never had it felt so utterly personal before.

Emma put on her game face and opened her door, but when she stepped out into the living room, she heard a cry in the kitchen that made her heart stop.

“Mom!”

Emma raced through the living room to the kitchen where she found Gold holding a struggling Henry around the neck, a manic grin on his face. She gaped at them, raising her gun to point at the man, mind reeling. She had seen Henry make off into the woods. This didn’t make sense.

“How?” Emma demanded, eyes alertly watching Gold’s every move, and tried to ignore the fear pulsing through her at Henry in his grasp.

“How indeed?” Gold chuckled shrilly, no longer leaning on his cane, but holding it in his hand. “Magic, one might say.”

“There’s no such thing,” she retorted. Anything to keep him talking, to keep him focused on her and not on her son.

“Ah, but you of all people know that’s not true, Miss Swan,” he told her, with a touch of bitterness. “I had to _take_ my magic. You, on the other hand, have had it just handed to you.”

“I don’t have any magic,” Emma said, tiring of playing this game. “Now, the jig is up, Gold. I know you’re behind all of the murders, here and in Eunice. If you let Henry go and come along quietly, I might even let my deputies bring you food in your cell.”

“Kind of you,” Gold sneered, tightening his grip around Henry’s neck, making him struggle and cry out.

Emma clicked off the safety on her gun. “Let go of my son, you bastard,” she growled.

“Oh, I don’t think so,” the man practically giggled, before his expression twisted into one of complete disgust. “It’s a shame poor Henry had to get mixed up in all of this since it’s you I’m after anyway, you _dirty fangbanger_ .” He shuffled around, still a tight grip on Henry, and Emma was forced to move as well, until Gold’s back was to the entrance to the kitchen and only exit. “How many times have you opened your legs for that monster, let him sink his teeth in you. You make me _sick_!”

“The only monster I see here is you,” Emma seethed with a quiet rage. “You killed your wife all because she left you for another man, a vampire. The way I heard it, you didn’t even _attempt_ to fight for her.” Gold’s eyes widened in surprise, before hardening, even colder than before. “Oh, yes, Killian told me everything.”

“Killian?” Gold repeated, with a dark glee. “Have you become his whore as well? How lovely. Did he tell you all about how he stole my Milah away from me?”

“She went willingly, and you damn well know it,” she said, still with her gun aimed at him. “Why else would you have killed her?”

Her words angered him, and for a moment his eyes flashed yellow and his skin took on an almost reptilian quality. “Enough chit chat!” he exclaimed and snapped his fingers.

Emma jumped when suddenly, the weight of her gun was no longer in her hand, but in Gold's, clenched in the hand that was wrapped around her son's neck, a triumphant grin on the psychopath's face. With another wave of his hand, her handcuffs disappeared in a cloud of red smoke. She started towards them, hand outstretched towards Henry, but froze when Gold pointed the barrel up at Henry's jaw.  
  
"Stop, _stop_ !" she choked out. One wrong move and she knew Gold wouldn’t hesitate to pull the trigger. Emma struggled to compose herself, holding out her hands placatingly. "Stop. I'm the one you want. Let Henry go, he has nothing to do with this."  
  
Gold seemed to consider this. "Ah, perhaps you're right," he said, loosening his hold a bit. Emma tried to stay focused on him, but her eyes dropped down to Henry, and her heart leapt in her throat at the look in his speculative gleam in his eye. "Who knows, maybe after I'm done with you, I'll erase his memory and Belle and I can take the boy in. She's always wanted a son."  
  
"I'll never be your son!"  
  
"Henry, no!"  
  
But she was too late. Henry wrestled free of Gold's lax grip, stomped on his foot as hard as his little 10 year old body could, before also elbowing the man right in the groin. Gold grunted in pain, falling to his knees, fingers losing their hold on Emma's gun, and she seized the opportunity and went diving after it.  
  
"Run, Henry!" Emma said getting to her feet and delivering a swift kick to Gold's side, reveling in the weight of her gun in her hand once more.  
  
Henry ran out of the kitchen and out the front door, and Emma made to follow, but Gold’s hand wrapped around her ankle, forcing her to the ground. He crawled over her and began landing blows with his cane to any part of her he could reach, with more strength than she would have thought possible for his age. Her shoulders, her chest, her head, her face. She screamed in aggravation as they struggled, tasting blood in her mouth and spitting it out.

Emma finally got the upper hand, elbowing him in the face, and he went down, crumpling to the hardwood floor of the foyer, clutching at his likely broken nose. Emma got to her feet, pointing her gun straight at him, safety clicked off. She didn’t have time to think it over, she had to incapacitate him somehow and before he used his magic to take away her gun again.

Aiming carefully, she fired with rapid succession at both of Gold’s kneecaps. The man howled with pain, blood spurting across her foyer, though he still managed to curse her out for being a “fangbanger bitch” and a “filthy goddamned slut”, but she took it, letting out all of the tension in her body as she breathed a sigh of relief. He wasn’t going anywhere now.

She left him there, pounding down the front porch steps. Big fat raindrops fell from the sky, wetting her face, and the dark storm clouds above her threatened more.

“Henry!” Emma called, cupping her hands around her mouth. She just needed her son back in her arms, needed to look him in his little face and tell him that everything was okay and that she’d never let anyone hurt him or take him away from her.

Her bare feet took her across the yard towards the woods, sure that Henry had fled this way when she’d told him to run. The woods were dark due to the leafy coverage of the trees and Henry hadn’t left a trail behind. “Henry!”

“Mom?”

Emma’s head snapped up, peering up into the trees. Sure enough, her clever boy had climbed up a large elm tree, and was on a branch an impressive height up.

“Henry!” she said, smiling in relief. “Everything’s okay, you can come down now.”

Emma watched anxiously as he climbed down and then met him at the bottom, sweeping him into the tightest of embraces. She pulled back, running her eyes over him from head to toe. “Are you alright?” she asked. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

Henry shook his head. “Where’s Mr. French?” he asked, his eyes bright with excitement.

“I may or may not have shot out his kneecaps,” Emma admitted.

“Cool!” he said. “Nice one, Mom!”

Emma sighed, shaking her head, her heart finally slowing down now that the danger had passed. “Come on,” she said, taking his hand. “I need to call in backup. Get _Mr. French_ to the Sheriff’s Station.”

“Not so fast, dearie.”

His voice made her blood run cold. She whipped around to face Gold, pushing Henry protectively behind her. The man stood no more than 50 feet away from them, looking no worse for wear, certainly not like he was in excruciating pain, and the panic sprung up anew.

“Surprised to see me?” he asked, moving towards them. He waved his hand and suddenly Emma couldn’t move her arms or legs or any part of her body, couldn’t even pull the trigger on her gun. He had them frozen, trapped like prey.

“What _are_ you?” Emma asked, knowing the best thing to do was to keep him talking while she figured out a plan.

“What, you were that naive that you thought vampires were the only supernatural creatures out there?” he responded. “You might say, I made a deal with the devil.”

“You’re a demon,” Emma said, a new tendril of fear curling inside of her.

“Incubus,” Gold corrected. “But, you, know, technicalities.”

“Does Belle know?” she asked, cursing her voice for trembling.

“No, and she never will,” he said darkly. “Not after I kill you.”

He stalked forward, cane in his hand, and was almost upon them when suddenly a pale hand burst up through the earth, snagging Gold’s ankle. Still frozen thanks to Gold’s magic, Emma could only watch as Killian emerged from the ground naked, body covered in dirt, fangs extended, and blue eyes stormy with rage.

“You!” Gold sneered, lip curling in hatred.

“Me,” Killian returned, before flying at the man with an inhuman roar.

The two fought ferociously, at inhuman speeds, punching and kicking, Killian throwing Gold into a tree at one point. But it became clear that, though it was cloudy and the trees provided good cover, the sun’s rays was taking a heavy toll on Killian. His skin began to smoke as though it was burning and Emma cried out his name at the sight. Her shout caught his attention, and Gold took advantage. His cane transformed into a sword and he swung it with precision, severing Killian’s left hand at the wrist.

The vampire bellowed in pain, falling onto his side with Gold standing over him in triumph.

“Finally, a punishment fit for a thief,” he crowed, kicking his side, bringing the vampire to the ground right in a patch of light, and the sound of sizzling flesh echoed through the trees.  

Emma’s heart pounded in her chest as Gold made merry, slashing here and there, Killian’s blood leaking from his wounds sluggishly, wounds that weren’t healing in the slightest. She and Henry were still frozen, watching helplessly as Gold toyed with Killian, making him a vampire pincushion.

But if there was one thing Emma Swan was not, it was helpless.

She thought of her superpower and how she’d been able to read Candy’s mind that night. There was something inside her, something she couldn’t explain but had been bursting to get out of her all her life. And she needed that something more than ever now. Emma could feel it welling up inside her, returning feeling to her arms and legs. Emma gritted her teeth, feeling Gold’s spell upon her like a physical bubble, one that she could pop if she could just channel her strength. Slowly, and against the resistance of what felt like 100 tons, she was able to shakily raise her arms. The sight of Killian’s blood and burned body on the ground spurred her the rest of the way.

“ _Leave. Him. Alone!_ ” Emma commanded, the spell around her shattering, causing her to pitch forward.

Whatever she did, had knocked Gold away from Killian, and the demon lay motionless on the ground. Emma spared him a hesitant glance, but he didn’t stir as she rushed over to Killian, dropping to her knees next to him. His body was a mess of slashes, burns, and blood, but he still managed to open his eyes at the touch of her hand.

“Felt your panic,” he rasped out. “Had to do something.”

“We need to get you somewhere light tight,” Emma said urgently, running her eyes over his rapidly smoking skin.

His eyes widened suddenly, but he was looking past her. “Swan-!”

She wasted no time. Turning, she brought her pistol up and fired, pumping three 9-millimeter bullets straight into Gold’s head.

“Heal that, you son of a bitch,” she spat.

He fell backwards, a look of surprise on his mangled face, and landed on the ground with a certain finality. Emma kept her gun trained on him, breathing hard, adrenaline pumping through her veins, but the man didn’t so much as twitch. Nearby, Henry was freed from the spell, and he rushed over, throwing his arms around her waist, and Emma clutched him tight against her.

“How do you kill a demon?” Emma asked Killian frantically over her son’s head.

Killian chuckled dryly, though the effect was ruined by him coughing up blood. “That’ll do, Swan, believe me.”

Henry peered down at the vampire curiously. “Is he gonna be alright, Mom?” he asked, seeming utterly unfazed.

“He will be if we get him into the house,” Emma said, trying to exude confidence she didn’t feel. Killian looked undoubtedly worse, his skin literally smoldering. “Henry, go grab the big tarp from the shed.”

Henry nodded, taking off, and Emma knelt back by Killian’s side. He appeared to be slipping in and out of consciousness, and Emma shook him by the shoulder.

“Killian?” she asked. “Killian, stay with me!”

Flames erupted suddenly, licking up his legs up to his chest, and he screamed in pain.

“No, no, no,” Emma moaned, looking for something, anything, to help blot out the flames, when a loud crack of thunder split the sky and the heaven’s opened, the rain finally coming pouring down, extinguishing the flames. Emma had never been the most religious of people, but she couldn’t help rejoicing. “Thank you, thank you, _God_.”

Henry came rushing back, hair plastered to his forehead, dragging the blue tarp they normally used for leaf raking behind him. Together, they rolled Killian onto it and enfolded it around him, shielding him from the UV rays. It took a good ten minutes to drag him back to the house, where she had to invite his unconscious form in again before they could tug him inside.  

“Where are we gonna put him?”” Henry asked.

“The basement,” Emma replied, and they slid the tarp over to the basement door.

Carefully, and not trying to inflict any more damage, they pulled him down the stairs before finally getting him settled on the cement floor.

Emma surveyed the room. It wasn’t very big, and they mostly used it for storage; Christmas decorations, various art/science projects of Henry’s, and winter clothes. There were two little rectangular windows that looked out above the ground level.

“We have to cover those up,” she told Henry, nodding to them.

“Will this work?” Henry asked, grabbing up a roll of black duct tape.

Emma nodded. “Good thinking, kid.”

They set about making the room light tight, and only when the windows were all covered did Emma pull back the tarp from Killian’s face. His skin was no longer smoking, but that was about the only positive thing she could have said.

“What do we do now?” Henry asked her.

Emma blew out a deep breath. “Now, we wait.”

Henry nodded and tramped back up the stairs, but Emma stayed for a moment kneeling next to Killian. If he hadn’t intervened when he did, Emma was sure Gold would have killed her, and the thought made her shiver. The vampire had saved her again it seemed, making that twice in the span of three days.

Maybe it was time she repaid the favor.

* * *

Emma’s deputies arrived within minutes of her radioing them, bringing along the paramedics and town coroner. The paramedics gave Henry the clear, but had to patch up a few cuts on Emma’s face. The bruises and bumps would have to heal on their own time, and Emma knew she was lucky to have escaped with just that.

In the kitchen, she gave her statement to Leroy and Lance and sat with Henry while they questioned him. Before they’d shown up, Emma had mentioned to him that perhaps it would be best if they didn’t mention Gold being a demon or Emma’s “magic”, though she still wasn’t convinced it could be called such a thing. She wasn’t sure if she should’ve been proud or suspicious of how well her son skirted over the truth, so instead she just settled for relieved that it was finally over.

All except one thing.

When Belle’s car pulled up the driveway, Emma could see the confusion and fear on her face as she took in the ambulance, police cruisers, and her husband’s Cadillac. She rushed out of the car and met Emma at the porch steps, her beautiful face frantic.

“Emma, what is it?” she asked. “Has something happened to Robert? They wouldn’t tell me over the phone.”

Emma swallowed. “Belle, I think it’s best if you come inside and sit down,” she told her, trying to fall back on protocol.

“Whatever you have to tell me, you can tell me out here,” Belle insisted. She grabbed one of her hands. “Please, Emma.”

Emma sighed and drew her friend over to her porch swing. It was hard for Emma to even look her in the eye, even knowing that she’d been left with no choice. “Belle, Mr. French is dead,” she said, as gently as possible.

Belle’s face crumpled as Emma’s words sunk in, tears sliding down her cheeks. “What?” she asked, her chest shuddering with suppressed sobs. “How?”

“Belle, this is going to be hard for you to hear, but he wasn’t who you thought he was,” Emma started. “Today, after the funeral, I got a call from a sheriff in another county about a string of murders that happened in his town some 15 years ago, identical to the murders that have been happened here in Bon Temps. The only connection between the two cases was Mr. French, formerly Rupert Gold of Eunice, LA.”

Belle looked horrified. “Are you saying Robert killed Ariel and Aurora?” she asked, eyes darting around Emma’s face as though hoping to find some shred proof that what she was saying wasn’t true. “Granny?”

Emma nodded solemnly. “Last night, I believe he broke into my house after the wake so he could kill me, but luckily, Henry and I weren’t here,” she told her.

Belle covered her mouth with her hand, shaking her head back and forth. “No,” she cried. “It can’t be true! He said he had forgotten something back at the shop!”

“Is that the same excuse he gave today when he just happened across Henry and I after the funeral?” Emma asked, looking at her friend with no small amount of incredulity. “Belle, he brought us back here and tried to kill me multiple times.”

“You’re lying,” Belle accused, jumping up from the swing. “You, Ruby, this whole town has always judged Robert without cause. I was the only one who saw him for what he truly was: a good man. And now he’s dead!”

Emma stood up as well. “I had no choice,” she insisted, struggling to keep her cool. “He was trying to kill me! He held a gun to my son’s head! It was self-defense!”

“It was murder!” Belle cried, and Emma had never seen her so angry, almost vengeful. “And you’re not going to get away with it!”

The petite brunette marched down the porch steps, heading to the coroner who no doubt needed her to identify her husband’s body. Emma sank back down onto the porch swing, her face in her hands. Gold’s terrible face flashed before her eyes, his arm tight around Henry’s neck, his sword slicing Killian to ribbons. She knew without a doubt there was nothing else she could have done. Gold had been a demon, an incubus of his own admission. If she’d let him live, who knows who else he would have hurt, killed. In her eyes, it was a miracle Belle was even still alive.

Emma raised her head, eyes widening. Belle. She had to be under Gold’s spell. That was the only explanation for her refusal to see the truth. You would think with Gold dead, the spell would be broken, but Emma figured she’d been under it for long enough that it might take a little time for it to wear off. If it did wear off that was. Who knew how magic worked? Emma wondered, before closing her mind off to any thought of the power she’d unleashed earlier that day.

“Emma!”

She picked up her head, half expecting Belle to be back to berate her some more, but the face she was met with was a very welcome one. Ruby was hurrying up the front steps, and Emma met her halfway, finally allowing the tears she held back all day to fall. Tears of relief, of fear, of anger, and of vindication. She had gotten justice not just for Granny, but for Ariel, for Aurora, for Milah, and for all the other women Gold had killed.

“I did it, Ruby,” she said into his friend’s shoulder. “I got him.”

* * *

As soon as the last vestiges of light disappeared that evening, there was an urgent knock on the door. Henry was thankfully asleep in his room, understandably exhausted by the events of the day and Emma had finally finished putting her kitchen and foyer to rights. She had been fielding phone calls and visits from reporters all day, and readied herself to kick yet another one off of her porch when she caught sight of an unnaturally pale face through the sheer curtains.

“Emma,” Graham’s voice sounded through the door when she stopped dead in her tracks.

Her mouth pursed into a firm line before she sighed and opened the door. “Graham,” she said expectantly.

“I’m so sorry about last night,” he said immediately, clearing the threshold once she stepped out of the way. “I--” He paused, and went utterly still. “What’s happened? I smell blood. Yours and another’s.”

Emma exhaled a deep breath. “It’s a long story,” she told him. Despite the fact that she was still pissed he'd disappeared on her last night, she was glad he was here.  “First things first, I need your help.”

“Anything,” he replied instantly.

A involuntary noise of amusement escaped her. “I was hoping you’d say that because you’re really not going to like it.”

She led the way to the basement door and as soon as she opened it, his fangs dropped down. “Killian is still here?” he asked.

Emma didn’t like his tone, especially seeing as he had sent Killian to her in the first place. “He’s what you’re going to help me with,” she said, making her way down the stairs.

Killian lay motionless on the tarp, having not moved an inch from where she and Henry had set him down earlier that day, nor the several other times Emma had been to the basement to check on him. His wounds looked no better, though she'd done her best to try and clean some of them, which was hard seeing as he was still covered in dirt. Emma knelt down next to him as Graham circled his body, fangs no long distended, his expression grim.

“He’s still, alive, right?” Emma asked, cursing the tremble in her voice. “Or undead, I guess?”

“He has not met the true death yet,” Graham agreed, which was also in no way reassuring. His eyes met Emma’s as he knelt across from her. “I need to know everything if I’m going to help him. Spare no detail.”

Emma swallowed and nodded, launching into the tale of the day’s events. Unlike her statement to her deputies earlier, she did tell Graham everything: how Gold had magicked her gun from her, how she’d shot him in the knees but he’d heeled and followed her, how Gold confessed to becoming a demon, how Killian had felt her terror and tried to come to their rescue, how Gold had forced her to watch as he sliced Killian open with his sword, and then how she’d finally broken through his hold on her and killed him.

Graham remained quiet through her whole story, eyes locked on her the whole time except for when she mentioned Gold’s sword. His eyes had darted back to Killian, tracing over the gashes before turning his attention back to her.

“He needs blood,” he told her when she was finished. “The burns from the UV rays have severely weakened him, and the sword Gold used was most likely forged with silver, slowing down the healing process even more.” He stood abruptly. “We need to call Tink at the bar. She’ll find donors and bring them here to feed him.”

“No,” Emma said, staying down at Killian’s side. “I won’t have strangers in my house, not after what happened today.” She took a deep breath before looking up at Graham. “No, I’ll give him my blood. It’s the least I can do after he saved mine and Henry’s lives.”

“Emma, consider this carefully,” Graham urged, back on his knees before her. “You’ve already taken Killian’s blood, to give him yours would deepen your bond even more. Don’t do something you might come to regret out of some misplaced sense of obligation.”

“I’m not doing it out of obligation,” Emma snapped at him, before instantly regretting her harsh tone. It was hard to remember that Graham was her friend and he was just looking out for her when he sounded like a jealous boyfriend. “I’m doing it because it’s the _right thing to do_. Now, please, help me save him.”

He closed his eyes briefly before nodding. They worked together to gently lift Killian’s head and upper torso so that his back was against Emma’s front, her body essentially cradling his. He was completely dead weight, but she was intimately aware of what a dead vampire looked like courtesy of Felix’s guts all over her two nights ago, and so she knew there was still hope.

“Can you--?” Emma asked, gesturing to her wrist.

Graham took her wrist in hand, his thumb caressing her pulse point. She nodded at his hesitant glance, and his fangs glided down. Looking away from his intense gaze, she winced when his fangs penetrated the skin at her wrist, but jumped right into action. Bringing her bleeding wrist up to Killian’s face, she coaxed his mouth open with her free hand, pressing her wrist against his lips and letting her blood drip inside.

“Drink, Killian,” she whispered into his ear. “Drink.”

But Killian remained unresponsive, and Emma looked at Graham with increasing panic. Blood was a vampire’s life force and if Killian couldn’t drink, then he wouldn’t survive much longer.

“Killian, you have to drink,” she pleaded, pressing her bleeding wound against his mouth desperately. “Killian, _drink_ , goddammit!”  

Another moment of nothing, and then, _there_. She felt the slightest hint of suction at her wrist. There was movement behind Killian’s eyelids, and Emma glanced up at Graham, hope springing anew. “I think it’s working!” she said. She ran her fingers through Killian’s hair soothingly. “That’s it, Killian, come on!”

There was an abrupt change to the pressure of the suction, and Emma gasped as Killian’s fangs pierced her skin. His hand came up to grip her arm like a vice, forcing her to stay in place as he suckled her wrist roughly, and she felt the pull of her blood leaving her body. Graham made a move as to pull them apart, but Emma stopped him.

“No, don’t,” she insisted. “Let him drink.”

A couple minutes in though and she could feel herself becoming light headed and cold. How much blood was too much? Killian wasn’t exactly in his right mind, would he know when to stop? Or would he drain her dry without a second thought before Graham could prevent him?

“Killian,” she said weakly, when she was sure he’d taken everything she could spare.

Graham shifted to intercept him if he struggled, but at the sound of Emma’s voice, the vampire in her arms stopped at once, tearing his mouth away from her wrist, and twisted his head to look back at her, his expression somewhere between drunk and awestruck.

“Swan,” Killian murmured warmly. He already looked so much better, his face flushed with her blood, the cuts and burns on it were slowly healing before her eyes. “Your blood, I’ve never tasted anything like it before. It’s _intoxicating_...”

He trailed off, slumping against her as he fell off into what was hopefully a restorative sleep, and Emma slowly shuffled out from behind him, laying his head gently down on the floor. She met Graham’s worried eyes as she stood, and he was by her side in an instant when she swayed, resting one hand on her waist.

He nudged her towards the stairs. “Come,” he said, his accented voice soft with concern. Emma couldn’t help looking down at Killian, feeling an almost physical pull to him. “He’ll be fine. You’ve seen to that.”

Emma nodded and allowed him to lead her up the stairs, with only one backwards glance at the vampire on her basement floor. Graham shut the door behind them, and she made her way to the living room, crawling onto the worn in couch and curling up on her side.

“You’ve lost a lot of blood, Emma,” he said. “You should go to the hospital and get a blood transfusion.”

Emma shook her head stubbornly. “I’ll be fine,” she insisted. Honestly, she could already feel her strength returning to her. Just as Killian’s blood had already healed the cut and scrapes on her head, it seemed to be replenishing her blood as they spoke. “Just let me lay here for a few minutes.”

Kneeling on the floor next to her, Graham smoothed his fingers along the curve of her cheek, surprising Emma with such a candid display of affection.

“You still owe me an explanation,” she told him, though the words held none of the ire she’d previously felt.

Graham smiled ruefully, though, even in her hazy state, Emma caught a flash of dread. “You’re a hard woman, Emma Swan,” he teased. “An explanation you shall have; though, perhaps when you aren’t looking as though you might pass out at any moment.”

“Probably a good idea,” Emma agreed, curling her hands under her head and gasping at the sudden pain from her forearm. It certainly wasn’t a pretty sight, still dripping with blood and with puncture wounds from both vampires. Graham did a horrible job of concealing the hungry look in his eyes as he surveyed it and she sighed. “Oh, go on then.”

He held her hand delicately in his and slid his tongue across her wrist, licking up the leftover blood. His tongue felt rough against her skin, but he was gentle as ever, paying special attention to the indents of the puncture wounds. Emma couldn’t keep her eyes off of him, unsure of how something that should have disgusted her felt so erotic. When he finished cleaning her wrist, he pricked his finger on his fang and spread his blood over the fang marks like it was and her wounds vanished.

“There,” Graham murmured, tracing the now unmarred skin of her forearm with his fingers, “All better.”

“Thanks,” she said, matching the volume level of his voice, ever mindful of Henry sleeping down the hallway.

He said nothing, simply staring down at her fondly, looping some of her hair behind her ear.

His attention made her a little flustered. Emma could feel her cheeks warming, and, if his little smile was any indication, he’d noticed. “So, is my blood as _intoxicating_ as Killian says it is?” she asked, ducking her head coyly.

Graham’s finger came up to lift her chin so she’d meet his eyes. “Your blood is indeed extraordinary,” he told her, his eyes earnest and tender. “But not as extraordinary as _you_ , Emma.”

Emma couldn’t control the way her heart skipped a beat at his words. No man, vampire or human, had ever spoken to her like that or taken care of her the way he just had. Hell, no one had ever _looked_ at her the way he was now, like she was someone special, someone worth caring for. It might have been the blood loss or maybe it had just been a while, but Emma didn’t resist the urge to wrap her fingers around his shirt and drag his lips down to hers.

His mouth was cold, but his kiss warmed her to the core.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your comments, kudos, and bookmarks!! They really spurred me to get this chapter out fast, I think it's only been about a month since I posted the last chapter. I knew I couldn't keep you all hanging for long. 
> 
> Also, just want to reiterate, that this is fully a Captain Swan endgame kind of story. But who can resist a little Gremma right?? Please let me know what you think of this chapter! :)


	7. Wrongful Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma deals with the repercussions of her actions...

_She walked down the stairs, the normally creaking steps remarkably silent. It was pitch black, but there was a glow from the basement that lit her way, and when she finally landed at the bottom, she saw that it was him. Killian stood motionless in the center of the room glowing dimly as all the vampires Emma had met did, and Emma crossed towards him, her bare feet not registering the coolness of the concrete floor._

_He said nothing as she walked towards him, but his blue eyes followed her every movement intently. Emma stopped right in front of him, scant inches separating their bodies. She tore her eyes away from him and down to his bare chest. Her fingers came up to trace across the healed gashes, now only faint, white lines on his already pale skin. Her eyelids felt heavy as she peered up at him, hands resting on his chest. He smoldered down at her, using one hand to cup her cheek, and she leaned into it._

_Their faces moved closer and closer until finally their lips touched, and Emma's eyes fell closed as she rose on her tiptoes to deepen the kiss. He tilted his head, slanting his mouth over hers almost possessively, the pace of their kiss quickening. His fangs slid down, and Emma ran her tongue along the point of the nearest one, reveling in his groan of pleasure. Her hands moved up his chest, one locking itself around his neck, the other gripping tightly to the hair on the back of his head._

_He drew away from her, and Emma followed, lips seeking out his, but opening her eyes when she was met with nothing but air. His eyes searched hers, unfiltered desire swirling in them, and whatever he found must have satisfied him because in the next second he was hauling her up and setting her on top of the washing machine. He parted her thighs and stepped into the space as if he belonged there, and her legs curled around him like maybe he did._

_His gaze ran over her, and Emma felt a lick of heat run down her spine, her core pulsing as he rolled his hips into hers. She moaned at the sensation of him thrusting right where she wanted him, and he pulled her closer, swallowing her moans with his lips, one hand gripping her waist and the other in her hair. She sighed into his mouth, eyes falling closed again, letting herself get lost in his touch._

_Killian's lips fell away from hers and she whimpered, practically clawing at his back in an effort to erase any space between them. He chuckled against her skin as he dragged his lips across her jaw and down her neck, suckling the skin along her pulse point. He breathed in deeply and practically purred, and Emma could feel the restraint he was exerting to keep himself from doing what he wanted most. She ground her center into his erection shamelessly, feeling the tension rise in her as well._

_"Do it," she breathed, cocking her head to the side. "Do it, I want you to."_

_He pressed a chaste kiss to her neck before plunging his fangs into her. Emma cried out in both pleasure and pain as her orgasm ripped through her. The pulls of blood leaving her body only heightened her ecstasy as her core pulsated as he continued to suck. He thrusted his hips into hers until his thrusts became more sporadic and he finally came with a groan, retracting his fangs from her skin and pressing his face into her shoulder._

_Emma ran her hands soothingly through his dark hair, holding him to her. He raised his head after a few moment, licking her wounds to heal them before kissing a path up to her lips. She could taste her blood on his lips as he placed an almost reverent kiss on her mouth._

_"Thank you."_

Emma awoke with a gasp. She was alone in her bed, and a quick glance at her windows told her it was early, the sun only just risen. Her hand rose to her lips. A phantom touch lingered as if Killian's lips had been there only moments ago like in her dream.

Emma groaned, head landing on her pillow. The dream had felt even more real than the previous one. She supposed she only had herself to blame for that. Giving Killian her blood had indeed deepened their bond it seemed. Maybe she should have heeded Graham's warning.

Her cheeks warmed as she thought of Graham; kissing Graham on the couch, kissing Graham up against the door to her bedroom, kissing Graham on top of the very bed she was laying in. They hadn't gone any further than that, not that Emma hadn't wanted to, but she could hardly keep her eyes open after the day she'd had. And she was also only too aware of her son sleeping down the hall. Graham understood though, pulling away with one last toe curling kiss.

"I owe you a date when this is all over," he'd said, sitting up on the edge of the bed, and she'd heard a soft click as he retracted his fangs.

She'd followed, smoothing her hair down from where he'd had his fingers knotted in it. "Looks like you do," she'd replied with a smile.

Maybe that was why she'd had the dream, Emma thought. She'd already been pretty keyed up before she'd fallen asleep. That didn't explain how real the dream felt though, and she touched her lips again.

With a groan of frustration, she pushed the covers back and slid out of bed. In the living room, she turned on the light and surveyed the room. It was exactly the way she'd left it, and she straightened up the rumpled pillows on the couch before tiptoeing over to the basement door. She cringed as the door squeaked, but pressed on, flicking on the overhead light. As she descended the stairs, she felt a flutter of anticipation in her stomach, but it disappeared the minute she stepped onto the basement floor.

Killian was gone.

Her eyes darted to all four corners of the room, as if he were hiding behind her boxes of Christmas decorations. The tarp he'd been lying on was folded neatly on top of the washer and dryer, but other than that, there was no trace of him.

Something akin to disappointment ran through her, but she did her best to stifle it. Killian was gone; that was a good thing. It meant he was well enough to leave, and honestly, having him around would have probably been more trouble than anything.

Emma sighed and started back up the stairs, turning the lights off. She returned to bed, figuring she could do with more sleep, hopefully without the dreams this time. As she drifted off to sleep though, her lips tingled, and she thought not of Graham, but of Killian and his phantom kiss.

* * *

"Mom! Mom, wake up!"

Emma's eyes popped open, suddenly alert. "Henry?" she asked, throwing back the covers and jumping out of bed.

"Finally," her son said, standing in her doorway, looking no worse for wear, which eased her rapidly beating heart. He held out the house phone to her. "Aunt Ruby needs to talk to you."

Emma grabbed the phone from him, rubbing sleep away from her eyes with her free hand. "Ruby, what's up?"

"Emma, turn on your TV," came her friend's anxious voice.

Emma's stomach seized up with dread, but she hurried into the living room, Henry hot on her heels. The TV came to life with a push of a button.

"Put on Channel 4."

Emma did as she said, and her jaw dropped.

"Is that our house?" Henry asked, incredulity colouring his voice. He made to go over to the windows and pull back the curtains, but Emma took a firm hold of his wrist, keeping him with her.

"If you're just tuning in," the newscaster said over the Live feed, "We're following the developing story of the death of prominent Bon Temps citizen Robert French at the hands of Bon Temps Sheriff, Emma Swan. Here is the location where he was shot and killed yesterday at the Sheriff's very own home. He is alleged to have attacked the Sheriff and her young son at their home after the funeral of a family friend. Sheriff Swan hasn't yet spoken to the media about the incident, but Mr. French's wife reached out to Channel 4 earlier this morning."

Emma and Henry watched in amazement as the footage cut to a tearful Belle outside of her and Mr. French's house.

"My husband would never hurt a fly," Belle told the reporter. "He was a good man, a community man. This was cold-blooded murder, and I won't rest until Emma Swan is stripped of her badge and locked up behind the bars of her own Sheriff's station!"

The video cut back to the Channel 4 newsroom. "Strong words from Belle French. We'll have the whole story for you coming up at 9 o'clock. First, here's Terry Thornton with this week's forecast."

Emma's hands shook as she muted the TV. How had this all blown out of proportion so fast? And to hear Belle, one of her closest friends, spit such vitriol almost made her want to curl up in a ball and cry.

"Emma, you still there?"

"Yeah—" Emma cleared her throat. "Yeah, I'm here."

"What're you doing to do?" Ruby asked in a small voice.

Emma exhaled deeply, exchanging a look with Henry. There was really only one thing she could do. "I'm going to make a statement."

* * *

A couple hours later, Emma found herself standing at her front door in her brown sheriff's uniform, adjusting her tie nervously. She hardly ever wore the uniform, preferring her red leather jacket for everyday use, but she wanted to look as official as possible when she made her statement to the press.

"Ready, Mom?" Henry asked, and she turned her head to look down at him. He gave her a confident smile. "You got this."

A noise escaped her that was halfway through a laugh and a sigh. "What would I do without you, kid?" she asked, smoothing down his hair. Emma snuck a glance at her watch. "Showtime."

Hand in hand, she and Henry walked out onto their front porch amid the snapping of cameras and the murmur of reporters gathered. There had to be about 25 people in her front yard. Most looked to be with some sort of newschannel, but Emma recognized some faces from around the town, most notably her own deputies who she'd called in to help crowd control. A few of the cameras displayed red lights, which meant they were live. Giving Henry's hand a squeeze, she let go, moving to the forefront, somewhat shielding him from view of the cameras.

Emma addressed the cameras. "My name is Sheriff Emma Swan. Yesterday, at approximately 12:10pm, I accepted a ride home for myself and my son by Robert French. During that ride, I became alerted via voicemail that Mr. French's real name was Rupert Gold, a suspect in a series of murders in Eunice, Louisiana in 1989; murders identical to the ones that have occurred here in Bon Temps."

"Before I had the chance to apprehend him, Mr. Gold had already gotten his hands on my son." Emma's throat threatened to close up at the fresh memory of Henry in that monster's clutches. "I was forced to give up my gun to him, which he then pointed at Henry. A scuffle ensued shortly thereafter where Henry was able to break free from Gold, and I ordered him to run to safety. I struggled with Gold and was able to get my gun back. I shot him in the leg to incapacitate him before I went to look for my son and call in backup."

Emma tried to focus on the sequence of events and ignore the flashing lights of cameras around her as she trudged on. "I found him in the woods on our property, but Gold attacked us again. He announced his intentions to kill me, and I had no choice but to defend myself and my son. I shot him three times in the face and pronounced him dead at the scene."

She swallowed, her throat dry from speaking for so long. "I don't take this lightly, but I don't regret taking action to make sure this man who deceived and killed so many people, could never hurt anyone again. I did my job to ensure the safety of this town and the safety of my family. I'd like to ask the press to be respectful of my family during this difficult time as well as Mrs. French. I won't be taking any questions at this time, thank you."

Emma nodded before quickly turning and ushering Henry back into the house amid questions being hurled at them. She shut the door behind them in relief, and they both sagged against it.

"Do you think it gets better or worse from here?" Henry asked.

Emma just shook her head, steering him towards the kitchen. "I _think_ that it's going to be a long day and some breakfast is in order."

She quickly cooked up a simple meal of scrambled eggs and toast for them, and they sat at the kitchen table together with two mugs of hot cocoa with cinnamon.

"How are you doing with all of this, Henry?" Emma asked hesitantly. "You're not scarred for life, are you?"

Henry shrugged. "I'm alright," he said nonchalantly, mouth half full. He swallowed. "Besides, I bet none of the other kids at school have had a vampire sleep over in their basement."

Emma leveled him with a series look. "Henry, you can't tell anyone at school about Killian," she told him. "I purposely left him out of my statement."

"To protect him," her son said matter-a-factly.

"I—" Emma began to protest but stopped. What he said was true. When had he become so wise? "Yeah, I guess so." There was something she she needed to discuss with Henry, and it wasn't going to be easy. "Listen, kid, Mr. French said a lot of horrible things yesterday, about me in particular, and I just want you to know—"

"Mom, it's okay," Henry interrupted her knowingly. "I didn't listen to anything he said."

"Oh," Emma said, taking a relieved sip from her mug. "Good, then."

Henry smiled suddenly, a mischievous quirk of his lips. "But are you dating Killian?"

Emma nearly choked on her cocoa. "What?" she sputtered. "No, absolutely—no. _No_."

"Graham, then?" he asked innocently.

Emma hesitated, mind flashing back to the passionate embraces they'd shared the night before. "Ahh, it's complicated," she said hastily. "And you know what, we're not talking about this anymore. Come on, you're coming to the station with me."

"I am?" Henry perked up, interrogation forgotten. "What about school?"

She snorted, standing up. "You think I'm letting you out of my sight after yesterday?" she asked, bringing his and her plates over to the sink. "Come on, hopefully by the time we're ready to go, all the news crews will be gone."

Their yard was thankfully empty when they left the house, and Emma made a mental note to thank her deputies for clearing the media out. The ride to the station in her police cruiser was uneventful, though they did pass Emma's bug on the way. In all the drama yesterday, she hadn't had a chance to call for a tow truck, something that would have to wait until later. Right now, she had more important business to take care of.

* * *

Bon Temps being on the smaller end of small towns had five full time members of their police force. Besides Emma, there was her deputy sheriff, Lance Lotts, her assistant deputy, Leroy, and two officers, Mulan, who she and Ruby had gone to school with, and Freddy, who was married to Abigail, eldest daughter of one of the oldest families in town. She stood before them all in the station's bullpen, one eye on Henry reading his storybook in her office.

"Alright, what've you got for me?"

Mulan and Lance exchanged a look, and Leroy crossed his arms, avoiding her stare. Emma let out a noise of exasperation.

"Come on," Emma said. "I know you all searched Belle's house last night. What did you find?"

"Everything," Lance said finally. "The gold flecks we found on each of the victim's bodies matches the gold from the cane we found with his body yesterday. The lab in Monroe also matched it to the same cane used on the victims in Eunice."

"Good, what else?" she asked, looking at the rest of them.

"We confiscated Gold's landlord keys," Lance spoke up again. "There were keys to each of the crime scenes, both Ariel and Aurora's condos and Granny's diner."

"My house, too, I expect?" Emma asked, and he nodded solemnly. "Okay, gimme more."

Freddy glanced away while Mulan stared straight ahead, and it became obvious that they were hiding something from her. She prompted Leroy with a look.

"Guy was a sicko, Sheriff," he said with some reluctance. "We found some...pictures."

"What kind of pictures?" Emma asked, a growing feeling of dread in her stomach.

"Pictures of the victims from before," Mulan faltered, and Emma was reminded of the fact that she wasn't the only person in the room that had lost someone they'd loved to Gold. Mulan and Aurora had been very close. "From before Gold killed them."

Judging by all of their expressions, there were pictures of her in there.

"Show me."

"Sheriff—"

"I want to see them," Emma said firmly, cutting Freddy off.

Lance and Mulan exchanged another look that made Emma want to bash their heads together, before Mulan finally handed her a plain manila envelope. She slid her fingers under the seal and tipped it so the photos fell into her hand. She tossed the envelope away and began thumbing through the pictures.

There were a couple of Ariel first; her at the town community center where she taught swim lessons, and then a few with a dark haired vampire Emma had never seen before. The next several were of Aurora at her beauty parlor, which was open 24 hours and catered to both humans and vampires alike. Mulan was in a couple of them, and Emma's eyes flickered over to her involuntarily. The last were of Aurora and her boyfriend Phillip, a vampire, outside of her condo.

Emma flipped to the next set, her heart stopping as she came across pictures of Granny through the blinds of the diner; Granny with Graham in the doorway of the inn; Granny walking with Ruby in town. Her stomach clenched up when she thumbed to the next picture and saw herself with Granny. The next few were of her around the town: at the grocery store; leaving the station; picking up Henry from school. It made her blood boil to see him in a couple of the pictures.

She paused on the next picture, one of the last. Her and Graham in the parking lot of the diner. They were close together, and when she flipped to the next one, they were locked in an embrace, her lips on his. Emma stared at the photo before roughly shoving the pile back inside the envelope.

"Do we have any idea who took these?" Emma asked through clenched teeth. "Was it Gold himself?"

"There's another set of prints on 'em besides Gold's," Leroy told her. Her gestured back towards their database room with his thumb. "I'm runnin' them through the computer now."

"Good, let me know the minute anything matches," she ordered, and he gave her a firm nod and headed off to comply.

She turned to the rest of them. "What else?"

Freddy stepped up. "It might have been no incident that you got a flat tire yesterday, Sheriff."

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"We spoke to a few of the funeral attendees, and one said they saw Gold loitering by your car right before it started," Freddy explained.

"You think he planted something," Emma surmised. "It's definitely possible. I'll have that checked out. Next? Who questioned Belle?"

"I did," Mulan said. She shook her head. "I didn't get much out of her, though. She wouldn't talk to us without her lawyer present and he wouldn't let her answer any questions."

"What?" Emma asked. "Who's her lawyer?"

"Albert Spencer," she said, her tone dripping with disdain.

Emma groaned. Albert Spencer was up there on her list of people she wouldn't spit on if they were on fire. He was a hotshot lawyer in Shreveport and probably the biggest asshole she'd ever had the displeasure of meeting.

"Belle doesn't even like Albert Spencer," Emma said, exasperated. "She couldn't stop talking about how horrible he was for representing that sex offender over in Red Hook last year."

Mulan shrugged. "Well, she didn't seem to mind him there with her."

"Yeah, well, Belle hasn't exactly been herself since yesterday," Emma said, more to herself than to them, but she didn't miss another bout of exchanged glances between her deputy and Mulan. "Okay, can you two stop doing _that_?" she asked, wiggling her finger between them. "Whatever it is, just tell me. I'm a big girl, I can handle it."

Lance sighed. "You need to prepare yourself."

"For what?"

"Hey, Mom?" Emma's head whipped around to see Henry waving her into her office. "You should probably see this."

Emma and the rest crowded into her office to find Henry focused on the TV there. On the screen, Albert Spencer was standing at a news conference podium erected in front of the town hall, Belle next to him.

"What happened to Robert French yesterday at the hands of Sheriff Emma Swan is a gross misconduct," Spencer was saying, a hard look on his face as he spoke into the camera. "According to the coroner's report, and _by her own admission_ , Mr. French was shot three times in the head, an unnecessary show of force, especially for an unarmed man of his age. We cannot and will not stand for this injustice, which is why Mrs. French intends to sue Sheriff Swan for wrongful death."

"What?" Emma exclaimed, staring agape at the TV. If Henry hadn't have been there, she might have let out a few choice curses. She swiveled her head to look at Mulan and Lance. "Is _this_ what you were trying to tell me?"

"Yeah," Mulan said, wincing slightly. "Spencer might have said something similar before he kicked me out of Belle's house."

Emma closed her eyes briefly before turning her attention back towards the screen. Spencer was fielding questions from reporters now.

"All signs point to French as the perpetrator behind the recent string of murders here in Bon Temps as well as in Eunice back in 1989," one journalist said. "What would you say to those who believe Sheriff Swan was simply doing her job?"

"Well, to them I say, since when did our local sheriffs become judge, jury, and executioner?" Spencer answered, the self-righteous tone making Emma's hackles rise. "Matters like this are the reason we have a judicial system. To me it reeks of an abuse of power. Next question."

Emma snatched the remote off her desk and jabbed the power button. She didn't need to listen to this bullshit anymore, and the last thing Henry needed was to hear it and start worrying. "Keep the TV off, kid," she said, putting her hand on the top of his head. He looked up at her solemnly and nodded, turning his attention back to his book.

Freddy, Mulan, and Lance followed her back out to bullpen with a quick gesture of her head. Emma paced in front of them for a moment, thinking. This had to be some sort of sick joke. She knew Belle was distraught, but to _sue_ her? They'd been friends for years! There was no one she was closer with besides Ruby. She just didn't understand why Belle would do this. She wasn't listening to reason! Her behavior the last two days borderlined on completely nonsensical. This had to be Spencer's fault. He had to be the one behind this. Belle never would have come up with something like this by herself. If Emma could just talk to her, maybe she could—

"Emma, maybe you should go home," came her deputy's voice suddenly. Emma's head whipped around to look at Lance, and, she had to hand it to him, he didn't back down from her glare. "You're too close to this. Let us collect all the evidence and present it to the press or else they'll accuse you of tampering with it."

She sighed, crossing her arms. Though she hated to admit it, Lance was right. Her emotions were getting the better of her, and her team was more than capable of handling this case. Emma would take Henry and go home, and they would relax for the rest of the day.

"Got a match, Sheriff!" Leroy said, excitedly, waving a sheet of paper as he came back into the room.

Yup, she would go home...right after she ripped this bastard apart.

"Let me see," Emma said, and Leroy handed over the sheet. Her eyes scanned the results, narrowing in recognition at the name. Passing the paper to Lance, she said to Leroy, "Go pick him up."

Her assistant deputy smiled beneath his bushy beard. "With pleasure."

* * *

Sidney Glass was the editor of the local newspaper, _The Bon Temps Bulletin_ , and could always be found skulking around the town when trouble hit, camera in hand, lips curled into a smirk as if he'd just hit gold. He wasn't smirking now, however, as Emma entered the interrogation room. Far from it if the sweat forming on his upper brow was any indication, though he tried his best to hide his unease.

"Your deputy was a bit rough with me, Sheriff," he quipped, straightening out the collar of his shirt.

Emma gave him a tight lipped smile. "My fault I'm afraid," she said. "I told him there was no need to be gentle."

Sidney made a derisive noise. "Careful," he warned her. "You wouldn't want the press to get wind of another 'abuse of power,' and don't forget, I _am_ the press."

Emma's smile faded at his barely veiled threat. Time to get down to business. She opened the manila folder on the table and started taking out the pictures, placing them one-by-one on the table facing Sidney, observing the way his face paled.

"What are these?"

"These are photos," Emma told him. "Photos with _your_ fingerprints on them, found at the French's house."

Sidney remained still as stone, except for a slight tick in his jaw.

"Did you take these, Sidney?" she asked point-blank.

"I don't see why that's any concern of yours whether I did or not," Sidney practically stuttered.

"You don't see why it's a concern of mine?" Emma repeated. "You don't see why it would concern me to see pictures of all of Mr. French's victims before their deaths? You don't see why it would concern me to see _myself_ and _my son_ in those pictures after what happened yesterday?"

"P-purely co-coincidental," Sidney sputtered, tugging on the side of his collar anxiously.

"Cut the bullshit, Sidney," she said. "Right now, you're looking at a possible accomplice to murder charge."

"No, no, it wasn't like that," Sidney said, finally breaking. "I had nothing to do with the murders."

"Then explain to me, Sidney, how your photos came to be in Mr. French's possession," Emma said, leaning over the table. "And don't even think about lying to me because I'll know, and then the only gossip you'll be getting is whatever _Leroy_ deems fit when he brings food to your cell."

"Okay, okay," he said hastily. "This is how it happened, I swear. A month or so ago, Mr. French came to me with a story for the paper. A few women in town were getting friendly with some fangers and he said he thought the town was in danger. I told him I would look into it." Sidney shrugged. "I did what I do best, I snooped. Caught Ariel a few times going to that vamp bar in Shreveport, snapped a few shots of Aurora with her boyfriend, and well, you know…" he trailed off, gesturing vaguely to a shot of her and Graham.

"So, you invaded everyone's privacy for a story," Emma summarized sardonically. "Why am I not surprised? How did French get his hands on the photos?"

"That, I had nothing to do with," Sidney said instantly. "One day, I came into my office and I couldn't find the photos. I thought I had just misplaced them. And then a few days later, Ariel turned up dead, so I figured it was probably better that way."

Emma studied him closely. He was telling her the truth; she could feel it. Sighing, she stood up. Sidney jumped out of his chair as well, a hopeful look on his face, and she paused.

"Where do you think you're going?"

He faltered, his brow furrowing in confusion. "I thought we were done here?"

Emma put a hand to her chest. " _I'm_ done," she told him. Behind her, the door to the interrogation room opened. "You on the other hand? Freddy, why don't you show our guest to his cell."

"Cell?" Sidney echoed, looking incredulously between her and her officer. "But I haven't done anything! I told you everything!"

Emma pretended to consider it. "Yeah, but we gotta make sure your story checks out and all," she said, doing nothing to contain her glee. "So, you're gonna stay with us with a bit."

"This is outrageous!" he exclaimed. "I want, no, I demand, my phone call. I want my lawyer. You have no right to keep me here."

"You'll find, I do actually," Emma reminded him, pointing to her badge. "But don't worry, I'll make sure you get your phone call. _Eventually_. Freddy?"

"On it, Sheriff," he said. Emma smiled and waved at an agape Sidney before leaving interrogation. As she walked into the bullpen, she heard Freddy say, "Come on Sidney, let's take a nice little trip to booking, and then I'll show you to our penthouse suite."

Lance and Mulan were at their desks and stood when she came in.

"We had your bug towed here, Sheriff," Mulan reported. "There was a large piece of glass shrapnel lodged in your tire. I tested it for prints, and they're a match for Gold's."

A noise akin to a growl escaped Emma. "Sonuva bitch," she said, glad Henry had the door closed to her office. "Okay, put the shrapnel with the rest of the evidence. Then, you and Leroy go on patrol. I want to make sure the media's not bothering people in town."

Mulan nodded and left the room, leaving just her and Lance.

"Sidney took the pictures, but I don't believe he had anything to do with the murders," Emma told him, beginning to pace. "I still want to make sure everything checks out. See if any of those keys Gold had match the offices at The Bulletin and get a copy of their surveillance tapes from the whole week before Ariel was killed. And then, we should—"

"Emma."

She stopped at his deep, grave voice. He was looking at her with a mix of affection, exasperation, and concern, and she sighed.

"I have to do something, Lance, or I'll go crazy."

"What you need to do is go home and relax," her deputy told her, laying a comforting hand on her shoulder. "We've got this. Our case couldn't be more solid, and the evidence grows by the minute. I'll have Mulan draft a statement to the press outlining what we've got so far. That should keep the media occupied for a day or so." Emma opened her mouth to speak, but he beat her to it. "And I will call you if anything big comes in."

Emma mustered a small smile. "I honestly don't know whether to write you up for insubordination or give you a commendation," she joked. "Seriously, though, keep me updated."

Lance nodded. "We will."

He turned to head into the evidence room.

"Hey, Lance," she said, and he stopped to look back at her. "Thanks."

He nodded again, a small smile on his face, before disappearing down the hallway.

Emma sighed and opened the door to her office. "Come on, kid," she said to Henry. "We're getting out of here."

* * *

After spending an idle afternoon back at the house with Henry, mostly spent playing video games, they headed to Granny's for dinner, which proved to be not the smartest decision. Though Ruby was more than happy to see them, giving them both fierce hugs, they did not receive the warmest of welcomes from the rest of the diner's patrons. As they sat down in their usual booth, Emma could feel eyes on her from every direction, and when she tried to meet their stares, they either looked away shiftily or glared back openly at her, sometimes shaking their heads.

The grilled cheese on Emma's plate lost its appeal as the lady she got her dry cleaning from ignored her greeting as she passed by, instead turning her nose up and ushering her husband to a table clear across the room. Luckily, Henry seemed blissfully ignorant as he stuffed his face with cheeseburger, occasionally reaching across the table to steal one of her uneaten onion rings.

"What _is_ with everyone?" Emma complained to Ruby when she came over to check on them. "It's not like Mr. French was the most popular person in town."

Ruby shrugged. "Well, yeah, he wasn't, but Belle may as well be." The tinkling bell above the front door caught her attention, and Emma watched her eyes widen in shock. "Speaking off…"

Emma followed her gaze to find Belle standing in the doorway. A hushed silence settled over the diner, the tension kicking up a few notches as Belle noticed Emma. Her face hardened with anger and she immediately whirled around and left the way she came. Emma knew it was better if she stayed put, but she couldn't help herself.

"Stay here, Henry," she said, sliding out of the booth. Everyone's eyes were on her again as she ran out the door after her (former?) friend. She spied her walking down the sidewalk on the other side of the street and raced after her. "Belle, wait!"

Luckily for Emma, the dark haired beauty was wearing her usual high heels, and she was able to catch up to her easily. Belle didn't slow down, however, forcing Emma to keep walking besides her.

"How you can have the gall to speak to me," Belle hissed, head determinedly faced forward, "After everything you've done—"

"Belle, please, just listen to me," Emma begged her. "I never meant to hurt you, but he left me no choice! He made it clear that I wasn't going to be leaving there alive and that he was going to cover it up. I couldn't let him kill anyone else."

"He was my husband!" Belle screeched, finally turning towards her, and Emma took a step back. Belle's eyes were completely pitch black, no white at all. "And a good man. I _loved_ him, and you'll pay for this, Emma Swan!"

Her eyes flared bright red before fading to their normal color. Belle glared at her one last time before striding off. Emma didn't follow this time, her heart beating wildly in her chest.

Back at the diner, a worried Ruby met her outside on the patio walkway.

"Are you okay?" she asked immediately. Her friend studied her face more intently after a moment. "Emma, what's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost."

Emma took a deep breath. Belle's behavior the past two days had been, at best, out of character and, at worst, completely insane. It went beyond grief and anger; truthfully it went beyond all logic and sense. There really was only one explanation for what she'd seen.

"I think Belle might be possessed."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I seriously am so sorry it's been so long! I got writer's block halfway through this chapter, but finally was able to power through it the last couple of weeks. Please let me know if you're still out there enjoying this story! I love all or your guys' review and every single one of them is a delight to read, so please please leave a comment! :)


	8. Dead or Alive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter finally earns it's M rating...

Emma waited about an hour after sunset to call Graham. She felt childishly nervous as she listened to the phone ring, like she was a middle school girl calling her crush. There was honestly no need for her to be nervous since this call would be more business than pleasure, but still; this would be her first time talking to her handsome vampire friend since he'd left her last night. Her feelings for him were all over the place at this point, but she knew she wanted to pursue whatever it was between them.

"Emma," Graham's voice came finally.

"Hi," she said, somewhat timidly. "Uh, how are you?"

Graham chuckled lowly, which relaxed her a bit. "Very well, and you?"

"Well, I've had better days," she told him. "I'm actually calling because I need your help."

"An all too familiar phrase," he quipped. "I'll be right over."

Emma opened her mouth to tell him there was no need to rush, but she heard the tell tale beeps that meant he'd already hung up.

"Is Graham gonna help you with Operation Exorcist?" came Henry's voice from behind her.

She turned to find him innocently chomping down on an apple. "Operation Exorcist?" she asked, crossing her arms.

"You and Aunt Ruby weren't exactly quiet when you came back to the diner, Mom," he told her, shrugging. "Just because I had my comic book open, doesn't mean I was actually reading it."

"Hmm, noted," Emma said, shaking her head in amusement. "And yeah, hopefully Graham will be able to help me with Belle. I figure, who better to help with a supernatural problem than a supernatural person?"

Henry nodded. "Makes sense." The doorbell rang and his eyes lit up. "I'll get it!"

Emma panicked for a moment, running her hands over her hair to make sure it was behaving. She caught sight of herself in the mirror over the mantle place though and stopped, rolling her eyes at how ridiculous she was being. She followed after Henry who was letting Graham through the front door.

Her mouth went a little dry at the night of him, though he hardly looked different from the day before. Maybe it was the simmering desire in his eyes that she could see clear across the room.

"Hi," she said quietly.

"Good evening," he responded, and they stood there for a moment just looking at each other before Henry reminded them that he was still there.

" _Sooo_ ," he said, looking between them with a grin on his face, "I'm just gonna head to my room. Homework and stuff."

"Okay," Emma replied, though she knew he had no homework since he hadn't gone to school that day.

Once they both heard his bedroom door close, they surged towards each other, mouths colliding and hands grasping. His cool lips felt wonderful against her heated ones, and she lost herself in the kiss for a minute.

Finally, they pulled away, and she smiled at him. "Hi again."

His echoing smile was a little fangy. "I could get used to being greeted like that."

Emma led him into the living room, sitting on the couch and pulling him down next to her.

"So, you mentioned needing my help," Graham said.

Emma nodded. "I think Belle French might be possessed."

Graham looked non-plussed. "Well, her husband was a demon, so it's definitely not out of the realm of possibility."

Emma quickly explained to him what had happened that day, how Belle was acting completely unlike herself, and what she'd seen outside of the diner earlier that night.

"Sounds like possession to me," Graham agreed when she'd finished. "Normally though, the demon's spell would be broken with his death."

"So, what does that mean?" Emma asked. "Is it permanent?"

"I don't think so," he said, albeit hesitantly. "It's possible that Gold kept Belle in his thrall using a particular object, like a talisman, and until that talisman is destroyed, she'll remain under his spell."

"Okay, so then all we have to do is find the object," Emma said. She stood up. "So, let's go."

Graham looked up at her in surprise. "What, right now?"

"No time like the present," she told him.

Graham stood up as well, smiling fondly at her. "Emma Swan, woman of action," he said. "I assume you have some sort of plan?"

"Well…" She'd really just intended to make it up as she went along.

"She might not, but I do," came Henry's voice, and they both whipped around to look at him.

"Seriously, kid?" Emma groaned.

In true Swan form, he shrugged, smiling innocently. "Do you want to hear my plan or not?"

Emma narrowed her eyes at him speculatively before caving. "Alright, cough it up."

"Well, if you need to search Belle's house for the object, you're going to need her out of it, and for that, you'll need a distraction."

"That seems like a lot of work when I could just glamour her," Graham pointed out.

"No," Emma said instantly. "No glamouring. She's already being mind controlled or whatever, we don't need to add to that." She turned back to Henry. "Let me guess, you already have a distraction in mind?"

Henry nodded. "You're not going to like it, though."

"Wonderful."

.

.

"I don't like this," Emma muttered, scanning the deserted street in front of her.

"I told you," Henry said from the back seat of her squad car.

"Tricking my own officers, though, it feels so wrong," Emma continued, letting her head slump against the window.

"It's the only surefire way," her son reasoned. "You want to help Belle, don't you?"

"Of course," Emma sighed. If this worked, not only would she have her friend back, but she hopefully wouldn't be getting sued anymore.

The scanner in the patrol car burst to life suddenly, causing Emma to sit up straight again.

"We have a possible robbery in progress at 270 Main Street," the dispatcher reported. "I repeat, a 211 at 270 Main Street."

After a moment, Freddy's voice came over the scanner. "Copy that, Officer Fa and I are en route."

Emma almost whimpered, feeling like the worst sheriff in the world. Here she was staging a fake break in, while trying to commit a real one. Maybe she _did_ deserve to lose her badge.

A couple of minutes later, Graham appeared at the passenger door to her car. She unlocked the door and he got in.

"Anything?" he asked.

"They're on their way to the pawn shop now," Emma told him. "What'd you do?"

"Broke in the front door, moved a few things around," Graham said. "I moved fast enough that any cameras would just record a dark blur."

"Good," she said, hands gripping the steering wheel. "Now we wait."

Sure enough, about 15 minutes later, they saw Belle's car pull out of the French's driveway, which they were parked 2 houses down from. She turned in the opposite direction from them, heading towards town, and she and Henry breathed a collective sigh of relief.

"Alright, here we go," Emma said. She turned to Henry. "Are you going to okay here, kid?"

"Yes, Mom," he answered, with just a touch of exasperation. "Someone's got to be the lookout."

Emma frowned deeply but nodded and handed him her spare walkie talkie, tucking the other into her coat pocket. "Channel 5, okay?"

"Roger," Henry said, smiling. She never seen him so excited. "Operation Horucrux is a go."

Emma paused. "I thought it was Operation Exorcist?"

Henry shook his head. "Operation Horucrux seems more fitting now."

"Emma, we don't have much time," Graham warned her gently.

"Right," she said, trying to focus on the task at hand. "Let's go."

They left the car with one last reassuring nod from Henry and headed towards the French's house. They lived in the nicest part of town, the classic three-story antebellum putting Emma's single-level ranch style to shame. Part of her had always wondered where Mr. French had gotten the money for such a house, since the pawn shop hardly seemed like a gold mine. Her eyes narrowed as they crept up the driveway. Her rent was definitely higher than it should be, maybe Gold had been overcharging everyone in town. Now that she thought about it, who was her landlord now that he was dead? Was it Belle? If so, she was probably lucky not to have been evicted in addition to being sued.

At the front door, Emma took out a bobby pin and began working on the lock.

"Done this a lot, have you?" Graham asked. She could hear the amusement in his voice.

"You'd be surprised," Emma said lightly. She gritted her teeth as she fiddled with the tumblers. "Almost got it...ah ha!"

The lock clicked open and Emma turned the knob, pushing the door open. She entered the house first, Graham following after her and closing the door behind them. The sheer magnitude of what they had to do swept over her as she took in the large foyer and grand staircase. Looking for a needle in a haystack would probably be easier.

"Where do we even start?" Emma asked. "What should we be looking for?"

"It will be an object of some sentimental value, I believe," Graham told her. "Something Belle would see and interact with everyday, so it would be in a prominent part of their home."

"Okay, let's start in their bedroom," Emma suggested, and they quickly climbed the stairs to the second floor.

"How will you even know if we've found it?" Emma asked as they started searching the bedroom. It could be anything in here, couldn't it?

"Well," Graham said in such a way that made Emma stop inspecting Belle's jewelry box and turn to look at him. He grimaced and she gave him an expectant look. "I thought that maybe you would be able to tell. With your powers."

Emma blinked at him. "With ' _my powers_?'" she repeated. "What do you want me to do, ' _Use the Force_?' Who do I look like, Luke Skywalker?"

If he didn't think he was too dignified for it, she knew Graham would have rolled his eyes. "Emma," he said. "You have a raw power inside of you that has been untapped until now. Yesterday, it saved your life and your son's. I know if you try, you can do this."

Emma sighed. She'd been trying really hard not to think about her "powers", especially after yesterday, but Graham's words made sense. "Fine, I'll give it a shot."

She breathed deeply in and out and shut her eyes. She could feel Graham staring at her and blocked that out too, focusing instead on the buzzing of energy that she had felt inside of her for as long as she could remember. As a child, she had tuned out the buzzing until it was only a dull white noise. It had never been magic to her, only a nuisance, something that made her different from everyone around her when all she'd wanted to do was fit in. How did she access it now after so many years of forcing it down?

Emma focused her senses completely, and was surprised to find a tendril of magic easily. It seemed to branch away from her, and Emma mentally followed it, thinking it would lead her to Gold's talisman, but it brought her in a completely different direction. She saw Killian's prone form, laying on a bed in a dark room, glowing slightly as all vampires did in Emma's eyes. He appeared to be only slightly better than when she'd him the night before. Most of his burns were healed, but the lacerations from Gold's silver sword were still visible.

Suddenly, Killian's blue eyes popped open, as if he could sense her, and, startled, Emma severed the connection, opening her own eyes.

Graham was looking at her in concern. "Are you well?"

"Yeah, fine," she said shakily. She shook her head to clear away Killian's face from her mind. The last thing she needed right now was a distraction. The clock was ticking. "Let me try again."

She found her magic much quicker this time and focused it on the room. A feeling of coldness seemed to emanate from it, and she shivered involuntarily.

"If I understand it correctly, all magic leaves some sort of trace," Graham said quietly as not to break her concentration. "Can you feel it?"

"I think so," Emma said. It was a bit dull, but she could feel the magic in the air. Something burned brightly with magic though, just outside her periphery. She opened her eyes. "The talisman's not up here. But I think I know where it is."

Emma led the way out of the room and down the stairs to the first floor. The talisman was somewhere down here. They walked through the living room, but nothing stuck out to her there or in the dining room. Finally, her instincts took her to the kitchen, where she stopped, gazing around at the pristine granite countertops and stainless steel appliances.

"It's here," she announced confidently. The magic felt so strong in the room that the hair on her arms was standing up. "Let's spread out."

Graham started at one end and Emma at the other, the latter doing her best to hone in on the object. It kind of felt like she was playing hot and cold but her magic kept going in and out. She needed to focus. Taking a deep breath, she cast her gaze over the kitchen, feeling the clear pull of magic to the cabinet about the stove. She walked towards it and was just about to pull it open, when her walkie talkie crackled to life.

Henry's voice came over the radio, but so garbled that she had no idea what he'd said. Her and Graham exchanged uneasy glances before Emma brought the radio up to her mouth.

"Henry, repeat that, over."

His voice came again, just as distorted, and Emma shook her head in frustration. "There must be some kind of interference."

"Magic perhaps," Graham suggested. "Emma, we should get out of here. He was probably trying to warn us that Belle was back."

"But it's right here, I can feel it," Emma said stubbornly. They'd come this far. She wasn't leaving until the talisman was destroyed. She reached for the cabinet handle and pulled it open.

"Emma, I can hear her," Graham warned behind her. "She just got out of her car. I can still glamour her."

"No," Emma said firmly, jerking back to make sure he saw how serious she was. "I told you: _no glamour_."

Turning back to the cabinet, she felt her pulse quicken as her ears strained to pick up Belle's footsteps coming up the walkway or her keys in the door. The cupboard was full of regular china; plates, glasses, and tea kettles. And nestled right in the middle of them all and practically glowing was a chipped tea cup.

"Look!" Emma said, pointing to the tea cup. "Do you see that?"

"See what?" Graham asked, peering into the cabinet. His attention shifted between her and the foyer rapidly. "Emma, she's coming inside."

"This is it," Emma told him, eagerly. "The tea cup! It's glowing! That's the talisman, that's what's controlling Belle!"

She picked it up and almost immediately dropped it. A sensation like an egg being cracked over her head crept all over her body, from her fingers to her toes. This was magic, but not the light, buzzy kind that flowed through her. This was dark and seemed to seep everywhere like sludge, and she had to struggle to keep her grip on the tea cup. Vaguely, she could hear Graham hissing her name, his fangs out at her failure to respond.

"What the hell are you doing in my house?!"

The question, uttered with the utmost hatred and shock, finally broke through the fog that threatened to engulf her, and she looked up to find a livid Belle standing in the entrance to the kitchen.

"I, Belle, I can explain," Emma started, but Belle had already spied what Emma was holding in her hand.

"Don't touch that!" she exclaimed, starting towards Emma. Her eyes were transformed until they were black again as she lunged towards Emma. "How dare you!"

Graham intercepted her, wrapping his arms around the petite librarian's torso. Belle screeched and struggled, but was no match for his vampire strength.

"Don't hurt her," Emma urged him, even as the woman cursed at her.

"I should have known you would stoop so low, Emma Swan," she said, her voice shrill and almost unrecognizable. "You may have this whole town fooled, but once a criminal, always a criminal, right?"

"This isn't you, Belle," Emma told her, trying to ignore the tears forming in her eyes at her friend's harsh words. "Your husband has you under some kind of spell!"

"My husband loved me, but what would you know of love?" Belle spat at her, still struggling against Graham's grip. "You're nothing but a friendless _orphan_ , and that's all you'll ever be."

A tear made it's way down Emma's cheek, but her mind was clear and determined. "You're wrong, Belle," she said calmly. "And this ends _now_."

Emma would never forget the scream Belle let out as she winded back and threw the chipped tea cup with all of her strength against the tiled floor. The cup shattered, and the impact knocked all three of them off of their feet. Emma's head was ringing, but when it cleared, the trace of dark magic permeating through the room was completely gone. Strong arms suddenly helped her up, and she looked up into Graham's concerned face.

"Are you alright?" he asked, as she got to her feet.

"I'm fine," Emma said. A groan came from across the kitchen, and she saw Belle on the floor pressing her hand to her forehead.

"Belle?" she asked hesitantly, moving closer, but still keeping her distance.

Her friend looked up at her, and her beautiful face crumpled in despair. Her eyes were their usual shade of brown, no red or black, and they were filled with tears.

"Oh, Emma, I'm so sorry," Belle choked out.

That was all it took for Emma to rush to her side, enfolding the other woman into her arms. Belle's whole body shook with sobs as Emma whispered words of comfort and forgiveness to her, almost crying in relief herself.

Her friend was back.

.

.

The following days were a bit of a blur for Emma. Eventually, Belle settled down enough, and Emma had the unfortunate task of explaining to her that her husband had been a demon. The dark haired beauty didn't take the news very well, but both Emma and Ruby were there to support her. Belle had retracted her law suite, for which Emma was very grateful. The media about had a conniption over the sudden 180 flip of the grieving widow, but no one reacted worse than Albert Spencer who stormed into the bullpen at the Sheriff's Station the moment he heard.

"What have you done?" he demanded the moment he saw Emma.

Emma smiled. "Hi, how are you?" she asked with false cheer. "Nice weather we're having today, isn't it?"

The man only glared at her. "Don't play games with me, young lady," he practically hissed. "You had no right to speak to my client, but Belle just told me she's dropping the suite. I know you spoke to her. Pressured her to change her mind somehow."

Emma said nothing, only kept her smile, it might have become more of a smirk, planted on her face.

Spencer's eyes narrowed further and he shook a finger in her face. "This isn't over."

He spun on his expensive Italian shoes and left. Emma smiled and waved. "Bye, now!"

She probably should have been worried about what he was going to do, but she was too relieved that it was all over to care. Granny's murderer could no longer hurt anyone, her friends and son were all safe as was the town that she'd sworn to protect. There was only one thing that was bugging her, and try as she might, she couldn't get her mind off of it.

A few days after she'd broken the spell on Belle, she found herself driving down the highway to Shreveport. Henry was having a sleepover at Nicholas and Ava's house, so she had the night to herself. Realistically, she knew that Killian might not even be recovered enough to be at the Dead Man's Chest, but something told her, she refused to believe it was their 'bond', that he would be there.

When she arrived, Emma was carded at the door by a vampire she didn't know. The hour was still early, so the crowd was on the campy side, but Emma ignored the tourists taking pictures and focused her attention on the vampire sitting on the stage. Killian, though pale as ever, looked much better than when she'd gotten a flash of him the other night. He was wearing the same pirate getup he'd been wearing the night they'd first met, and she only had a moment to appreciate the way the black leather hugged his body, before his eyes zeroed in on her.

They shared a inscrutable look across the bar before he was suddenly in front of her, sweeping her into his arms and rushing them into his office in a matter of seconds. Her back hit the door of his office with a thud, and she looked up to find him gazing down at her in awe.

"Swan."

"Hi," she said breathlessly, too stunned to protest his actions.

"You saved me," he whispered, inching closer.

"You saved me first," Emma reminded him, remembering the way he'd risen from the ground to come to their rescue. "Thank you."

Killian drew back a little at that, scratching behind his ear almost self consciously, she thought, like the praise had made him shy. He bounced back a second later, using the same finger to tap his lips, drawing her attention to them.

"Well, perhaps, gratitude is in order," he said, throwing her a lascivious look.

Emma grinned. "Yeah, that's what the thank you was for."

"Is that truly all you and your son's lives are worth?" he asked, his tone playful.

Emma shook her head, and the words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. "Please, you couldn't handle it."

"Perhaps, you're the one that couldn't handle it," Killian countered, arching an eyebrow at her.

Emma didn't know what came over her, but one second she was looking at his smirk and thinking she'd like to wipe it from his face, and the next she was grabbing the collar of his ridiculous pirate coat and hauling him to her. Their lips crashed together, mouths open, tongues battling for dominance. She felt his hand in her hair, and she let out a breathy sigh, pulling him closer, wanting to feel his cool skin against her own. How could someone who was dead make her feel so alive? Was it like this with Graham? She couldn't remember.

Suddenly, she felt like she'd been doused with ice. _Graham_.

Emma pulled away from Killian, though he followed her, their foreheads still touching. He wasn't breathing hard like she was, but his fangs were down, and he looked thunderstruck, his eyes still closed.

"That was—" he breathed.

"A one time thing," she interrupted, causing him to pull back and open his eyes. They were clouded with confusion, and his expression was almost hurt. She needed to get out of there right away. "I have to go. Don't follow me."

"As you wish," he said, and she avoided his gaze as she slipped out of the door and back into the hallway.

She berated herself the whole drive back to Bon Temps. What had she been thinking, going to The Dead Man's Chest like that? If she'd wanted to make sure Killian was okay, she could have just called the bar. Over the phone he couldn't smolder at her with his too blue eyes and she didn't have to see his stupid kissable pink lips.

It was the blood bond most likely, she reasoned. The bond had drawn her to the bar, to him. Graham had said Killian would be able to feel her emotions, so no doubt, he knew exactly what she was feeling right now as she fled from Shreveport. The thought made her bang her hand on the steering wheel in frustration.

When Emma got to Main Street in Bon Temps, she made a quick decision. Instead of taking the turn to her house, she followed the road to the outskirts of town and found herself pulling into Graham's driveway. She'd never been inside his house before, but she had dropped him off a couple of times, so she'd known where he lived.

Shutting the engine off, she sat there for a moment. Despite the fact that he'd probably heard her pull up, Graham didn't meet her outside. He was waiting on her, of course, letting her decide what she wanted to do, and after a minute, she unbuckled her seatbelt and got out of the bug. The front door opened just as she arrived at it, and Graham greeted her with a smile.

"Emma, I didn't know you were—"

"Kiss me," Emma interrupted him, stepping into his body and wrapping her arms around his neck.

Graham's brow furrowed in confusion. He inhaled suddenly, and his body went rigid, his expression clouding over with anger.

"You've been with Killian," he stated, his fangs dropping down. "I can smell him all over you."

Damn vampire senses, Emma cursed mentally. She sighed and let her arms fall back to her sides. "I went to see him, to make sure he was okay," Emma admitted. "We kissed, but it didn't mean anything."

"And now you want me to, what?" Graham scoffed. "Make you forget him?"

"No!" Emma protested, before immediately backtracking. "Yes? Maybe. I don't know! All I know is I can't myself around him. Are my feelings real or are they just a side effect of the bond?" She took a chance and took his hands in hers. "But I _can_ and I _do_ trust my feelings for you, Graham. You're the one I want to be with."

"Truly?" he asked, and she couldn't blame him for being hesitant.

"Yes," she stressed. "Now, kiss me."

He drew her to him, wrapping both hands around her waist, and their lips met, a bit roughly at first, but gradually their kiss transformed into something more tender, but no less passionate. Graham pulled her inside, shutting the door behind them, never breaking their embrace as he pressed her back into the door. It reminded her too much of her moment with Killian though and she pulled back from him.

"Bedroom," she gasped out.

He suckled his way down her neck, lingering at her pulse point before picking her up and zipping them into his bedroom. Once she was back on her feet, his presence left her for a moment, and pricks of light appeared around the light tight room as several candles were lit. Emma took a moment to strip off her leather jacket, tossing it on a nearby chair, and toeing off her boots. Graham came back to her after a moment, his face awash in light and dark thanks to the glow of the candles. Cupping her face with both hands, he searched her eyes.

"I don't want to hurt you," he said after a moment, and Emma had a feeling he wasn't just talking about sex.

"I'm not easily broken," Emma assured him, pulling him back to her and pressing her lips to his once again.

Her hands moved to unbutton his vest and pushed it off his shoulders. Eagerly, she pulled his button down out of his pants and started unbuttoning that as well. Her mouth sucked on his bottom lip, and he groaned when she raked her nails down his bare chest. He moved quicker now, making short work of Emma's shirt and pants before tossing her with ease onto the bed. He stared down at her with pure want in his eyes, as well as a perfectly sized bulge in his pants.

"You're so beautiful," he told her, and she felt the trail his gaze left over every inch of her body. He looked like he wanted to devour her every piece of her, and there was nothing Emma wanted more.

She crooked a finger at him. "Get up here," she ordered. "And take off your pants."

Graham gave her a fangy smile before complying. He crawled up the bed, stopping to kiss his way up her legs. She squirmed, close to pushing his face right where she wanted it, between her thighs, but let him do as he wished. He paused where she was aching and wet with arousal and breathed deeply. Giving her a sinful grin, he placed a kiss on her over her underwear before moving on.

Up he went across her body, kissing and caressing her lace clad breasts, and she reveled in the attention, needing more. Her bra came off with a flick of her fingers, and she shivered with pleasure as his mouth and tongue encircled one of her nipples. She could feel him hard against her and moved her thigh to rub against him. He growled, lips descending on hers once again.

Emma's legs opened to cradle his body with hers, and Graham took the opportunity to snake his hand downwards, fingers sliding underneath her panties. She gasped as he easily slid a finger inside of her, and he laughed against her lips.

"I've wanted to do this for some time, Emma," he said, inserting a second finger and moving them in and out at a languid pace.

"Me too," she breathed, pushing off Graham's boxers with her foot until he was gloriously bare. " _Please_ , Graham."

"What do you need?" he asked her, rubbing his thumb against her sensitive clit. "Tell me what you need."

"You," she gasped, writhing against his fingers. "I only need you, _please_."

Graham removed his fingers from inside her, ignoring her whine of protest, and hooked them around her underwear, dragging them down her legs and throwing them somewhere off to the side. Settling his weight between her legs, he grasped himself in hand and lined his cock up to her entrance. He sought her gaze one last time, and she gave him a fervent nod. He pushed forward, and she took him inside her inch by inch, one hand digging into his bicep, the other grasping the sheets.

Finally, he was sheathed all the way inside her, and the sensation of his cold hardness inside of her heated center was unlike anything she'd ever experienced. He stopped to let her adjust, but she wasn't some blushing virgin, and instead, urged him on, wrapping her arms around his back.

Taking her hint, he began thrusting in and out, and the drag of him along her walls had her digging her fingers into his skin. Their pace became faster and faster, and Graham's hands and lips were everywhere all at once, caressing and pulling and suckling. The combined sensations threatened to overwhelm her, and sooner than Emma had thought possible, he was coaxing her through her first orgasm, her whole body spasming.

He didn't let up though, continuing to pound into her, the sound of their skin slapping against each other quickening as his thrusts did.

"You are _mine_ , Emma," he grunted out, curling her leg around his hips, and the new angle driving him even deeper inside of her.

"Yes," she gasped, eyes rolling to the back of her head as he hit that special spot that made her see stars.

"Say it," he urged her, wrapping his arms around her lower back and lifting her off the bed, so he was fucking her in the air.

"I'm yours!" Emma cried out, so close to reaching her peak again that she would have said anything to make sure he didn't stop. "Only yours. _Please_."

He gave her a bruising kiss before burying his face in her neck, and Emma could feel the tiny pinpricks of his fangs against the delicate skin there.

"Emma, I—," he started, still thrusting up into her.

"Do it," she interrupted hastily, before she lost her nerve. "Bite me." He pulled back from her, a longing, though hesitant, look on his face. Keeping one arm anchored around his neck, she cupped the side of his face with the other. "I trust you, Graham."

Her back hit his firm mattress again, as he lowered them back onto the bed without losing his rhythm. She could feel her orgasm building within her, and it hit her all at once as he sunk his fangs deep into her neck. It was painful for only a moment as pleasure swept through her, radiating out from her center. Even the pull of him sucking her blood was somehow erotic, and the abounding sensations made her cry out in ecstasy.

She felt Graham come undone as well, taking her blood seeming to be the trigger for his own climax. His hips continued to thrust for several moments before stopped and pulled out, though he continued to feed voraciously from her neck.

"Graham?" she asked hesitantly, though she was starting to feel a little lightheaded as she came down from her high; whether from the extreme pleasure or the blood loss, she wasn't sure.

He pulled back to look at her, fangs still down, blood, _her blood_ , smeared all over his mouth. His face was flushed as she'd never seen it, and his eyes had taken on a dreamy expression.

"Your blood, Emma," he said, shaking his head as though in a daze. "It's—"

" _Intoxicating_ , I've heard," she said dryly, smoothing down her wild hair. Honestly, these vampires were like a broken record.

"Well, yes," Graham admitted, eyes shifting to her neck, which she was sure was a mess. Finally, they met hers again, serious now. "In all my years, I've never tasted anything like your blood before."

A trickle of fear went through her. "What does that mean?"

He stared down at her for a moment before shaking his head. "Nothing," he told her. "It means, nothing."

And Emma didn't need her superpower to know he was lying to her.

Using his tongue, he licked up the last remains of blood around her neck before scooping her body up effortlessly and sliding her underneath the covers. He left her side for just a moment, and when he came back, his face was clean and his fangs were retracted. Sliding under the sheets with her, Graham wrapped an arm around her, hugging her to his side. Emma rested her head on his shoulder and her hand on top of his chest. The absence of a heart beat was a little unnerving, but she'd just had sex with a vampire who had sucked her blood; at this point, his dead heart should have been the least startling factor.

"I will protect you, Emma," Graham said suddenly, causing her to pick up her head to look at him. "You are mine, now. No other vampire can touch you or feed off of you without my consent."

"Without _your_ consent?" she asked incredulously, sitting up all the way now. "And what about _my_ consent?"

"Most non-mainstreaming vampires could care less about getting consent from the human they've chosen as their meal," Graham pointed out, sitting up as well. "By claiming you, I can protect you in an official capacity that is recognized by all vampires."

The more he spoke, the more uneasy Emma became. "I'm my own person, Graham," she told him firmly. "If this is about becoming your property or whatever, I'm out."

She moved to get off the bed, but he pulled her back to him gently. "Emma," he chided, smiling at her in that fond way he did. "That's not what it's about. This world, this supernatural world you've become a part of, is a lot bigger than you realize. All I want to do is be with you, Emma, you _and_ Henry, and protect the both of you. If you'll let me."

Emma searched his eyes for an ulterior motive but found none, and since her superpower didn't work on vampires, she needed to trust her instincts. Graham had been by her side, helping and encouraging her through everything the last few months. Besides Ruby, there was probably no one she trusted more. Was she really going to throw that away because of some old-fashioned vampire bullshit? No.

"Okay."

Graham nodded, clearly pleased, and resettled them back down on the bed. She nestled her face comfortably into the crook of his neck.

"We really need to work on your pillow talk, though."

.

.

An overwhelming amount of townsfolk showed up for Rupert Gold's funeral when it was held two days later. Whether it was to discern for themselves if Belle and Emma had truly made up or they wanted to see what name was going to be on the tombstone, Emma wasn't sure. She was there for only one reason, though, and that was to support Belle.

Though she understood that she had been in her husband's thrall, Belle insisted it hadn't always been like that. They had been in love when they married, Gold taking Belle's last name because he had said he'd wanted to start over after the loss of his first wife. But in the past couple of years, and shortly after the vampire's Great Revelation, Belle started noticing her husband's strange behavior, and when she'd wanted out of their marriage, that's when he had put her under his power.

It was a very simple ceremony and the only tears that were shed were Belle's. No one gave a eulogy or spoke any kind words about Gold, and the pastor only read a short psalm as the casket was lowered into the fresh grave site; thankfully as far away from Granny's as possible. Emma couldn't imagine a stranger funeral, but it was what Belle had wanted. Afterwards, many guests came and gave their condolences to Belle, their eyes shifting curiously to Emma who remained firmly by her side.

She was keeping an eye on Henry nearby talking animatedly with a couple of kids from school, when she spied a figure standing just in front of the grave. He was about her height, maybe a little taller, with scruffy brown hair, and her heart almost stopped beating in her chest.

"Excuse me," Emma said quietly to Belle, not taking her eyes off the man.

She walked through the rows of chairs up to where he stood, her heart now pounding loudly in her ears. He must have heard her approaching through the grass because he was hastily wiping tears away from his face. When he turned to her and she saw his face for the first time in almost 11 years, she couldn't help her gasp.

"Neal?"

**TBC**


End file.
